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I wish I could remember that 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 will 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 seem'd to mean so little, meant so much;
If only now I could recall that touch,
First touch of hand --
Did one but know!

~ Christina Rossetti ~
~ Sonnet ~