You know those things from ages past, tucked away, like these tiny gloves. Brings to mind one of my favorite passages from Wordsworth's ODE. It's not verbatim - I don't want to go look it up.
"what though the radiance which was once so bright, be taken now forever from my sight. And though nothing can bring back the hour of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower, we will grieve not, rather, find strength in what remains behind. In the primal sympathy, what having been must ever be. In the soothing thoughts that spring forth out of human suffering. In faith that looks through death, and in the years that bring the philosophic mind."