Why, be it so! it matters not what name
Yon river bears, since, still, it flows the same!
Whate'er I call you, this, I'm sure, I feel,
No name can speak of you, with half my zeal!
In vain, love's meaning, this or that , we call,
The comprehensive lover takes in all!
Yet, since, to custom's bent, we all incline,
You shall, to please you, be my Valentine .
And, since my charming trifler asks a gift.
The mystic value of this present, sift.
Accept these gloves , and, if they worthless seem,
Learn, thus, what pleas they bring, for your esteem .
Their spotless white prefer'd their choice, to me,
As the best emblem of your chastity .
Their smoothness may, almost, the honour win,
To represent the velvet of your skin:
Their suppleness , which, join'd with strength, you find,
Is the just fabrick of your well-mix'd mind .
The kid , that wore 'em, had some faint pretence,
To be the type of your sweet innocence:
How, then, can I a fitter present chuse?
Or you these emblematic gloves refuse?
One stronger reason, too, my fear has found;
Women , they say, oft slight the breast they wound .
And, when dark absence shades us, from their view,
They look not after us , but seek out new:
To shun this fate , these gloves your lover sends,
That you may have him, at your fingers ends .