Ode to a Handkerchief

by John Herlihy

I hear the constant sniffles of a student

Doesn’t he hear these sniffles of his own

They occur so often they begin to annoy

I am losing my concentration in the class

Why doesn’t he just blow his nose, I think

Then comes the answer: no handkerchief

Handy handkerchief, humble commodity,

For runny noses, such convenient utility.

From where did such a notion first arise?

A wiser tool no mind could ever devise.

Held to the nose evil congestion to expel;

Problem now solved, nothing more to tell.

Clean white linen, crisp, neatly pressed,

Not merely useful, in thriftiness blessed.

Soft cotton cloth, so gentle to the face,

It waits in my pocket, silent and chaste,

Patiently biding its time without a care,

Uplifting to the spirit with its casual air.

 Then, beyond utility, beyond thrift, grace,

A hint of perfume when raised to the face.

Through all the trials of a harrowing day,

Its blessed scent keeps life’s misery at bay.

The fine square cloth has spirit of its own,

Sweetness between woven threads sewn.

Without my handkerchief, I never take leave;

Grief may strike with some cause to grieve.

My handkerchief ready to wipe away all tears;

An inhalation of perfume drives away all fears.

In heat, it dries my brow of gathered sweat;

It helps me to focus – to remember, to forget.

Is it mere folly to give my handkerchief its due,

When most just reach for a tissue to blow into.

Still my companion recalls traditions forgotten,

Refined ways of more ancient cultures begotten.

When the day is done, I do feel more content--

A clean cloth in my pocket, replete with scent.

- - - - -

Copyright © John Herlihy

Friday 2 January 2026