I wish I could remember that first day,First hour, first moment of your meeting me,If bright or dim the season, it might beSummer or Winter for aught I can say;So unrecorded did it slip away,So blind was I to see and to foresee,So dull to mark the budding of my treeThat would not blossom yet for many a May.If only I could recollect it, suchA day of days! I let it come and goAs traceless as a thaw of bygone snow;It seemed to mean so little, meant so much;If only now I could recall that touch,First touch of hand in hand – Did one but know!-CHRISTINA ROSSETTI
