O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
Missing so much & so much
O fat white woman whom nobody loves,
Why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
When the grass is soft as the breast of doves
And shivering-sweet to the touch?
O why do you walk through the fields in gloves,
Missing so much and so much?
I have been trying for a while now to do a post on this poem, wondering what to say about why it is a favourite
When I first came across it – in my twenties I think – it seemed almost to be recounting an hallucination. And why do I feel sure it tells of a scene seen from a train?
‘Fat white woman whom nobody loves’ is piercingly sad – I have never been fat, but I can imagine how that might feel
Missing so much – why, what?
Most of all, it is the gloves
Both my Nana & my Mum placed great emphasis on the importance of being a lady
Among other things, a lady never goes out without her gloves
Women’s magazines used to devote much time & space to the question of whether ones accessories – bag, gloves, hat, shoes – should match, tone or contrast
In summer, everyday gloves were white & cotton. They were difficult to keep clean, you had to soak them in bleach to keep them sparkling
Real ladies had soft white hands. Women who had to work hard had red, chapped, rough skin
Mean mothers in law wore white gloves to run their fingers across the top of shelves to check that their sons house was being looked after properly by his wife
The shaking of hands in greeting seems less common now. But when it was a commonplace it was also considered a bit indecent to place ones naked hand in a mans
Most of all, the wearing of white gloves made it abundantly clear how much dirt one is exposed to in every day life.
We needed no reminder of the importance of washing ones hands
And I have just found out that Frances Cornford, the poet, was Charles Darwins grand daughter
