Patrick Kavanagh

On a Friend’s Child

Candida, Born September 22, 1942

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 love 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 stooks once 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.

(23 September 1943)

§ This poem also appears in
A Soul for Sale and Other Poems,
titled Candida.

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