First Kiss

First kiss, a very precious thing

Is something like a wedding ring

Or flower pressed within a book,

The captive memory of a brook.

You know the day, the hour, minute,

As though eternity were in it.

You know the place, and walking there,

You see the blossom in her hair.

And all that happened after that

Is but a faded photostat

Of what you hadn't dared surmise:

First kiss and heaven in her eyes.