FOR JOHN BETJEMAN'S DAUGHTER Candida is one to-day, What is there that one can say? One is where the race begins Or the sum that counts our sins; But the mark time makes to-morrow Shapes the cross of joy or sorrow. Candida is one to-day, What is there for me to say? On the day that she was one There were apples in the sun And the fields long wet with rain Crumply in dry winds again. Candida is one and I Wish her lots and lots of joy. She the nursling of September Like a war she won't remember. Candida is one to-day And there's nothing more to say.