The First Day

I wish I could remember the first day,

First hour, first moment of your meeting me;

If 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 or days！ I let it come and go

As traceless as a thaw of bygone snow.

It seemed to man so little, meant so much！

If only now I could recall that touch,

First touch of hand！ Did one but know！


Cbristina Rossetti