Here’s looking at you, kid. A Grande Amore Rose for you!

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.

                       By Christina Rossetti, ‘The First Day’.