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 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!
