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The First Day
by Christina  Rossetti

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 forsee,
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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Poem ID: 68650   Poem Posted: 3/1/2002
Viewed: 483514  Voted On: 7414  E-mailed: 2226  Commented On: 14
 
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