I wish I could remember the first day,
First hour, first moment of your meeting me;
If bright or dim the season, it might
Summer 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
That would not blossom yet for many a May.
If only I could recollect it!
Such A day of days!
I let it come and
As 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!
