The First Day
Christina Georgina Rossetti
I wish I could remember the first
day,
First hour, first moment of your
meeting me;
It bright or dim the season, it might
be
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
tree
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
go
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!
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