So blind was I to see and to foresee

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 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! 

[Christina Rossetti {1830-1894}, "2" {I wish I could remember that first day} from 'Monna Innominata: A Sonnet of Sonnets' in Collected Poems]