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 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!