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 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!
Love is, above all, the gift of oneself. - Jean Anouilh,
When I am sad and
weary. When I think all hope has gone.
When I walk along High Holborn, I think of you with nothing on
Those have most power to hurt us that we love. - Francis Beaumont