To Sister Ethelreda

on the day of my son’s first Communion

I know now that some things do not come again.
Like river boats that pass on out of sight
the day’s light craft were: red and white, all white
decked out, they sailed, the boys and girls, sheer into the light.
I know now that some things do not come again.

I know now that some things do not come again.
The kindness and firmness for two years allowed
to our young sapling child, that he should not run wild
but grow straight in his schooldays, not lightly to be bowed –
I know now that some things do not come again.

I know now that some things do not come again.
I saw the boys and girls like flowers floating
the aisle’s holy stream. And goodness devoting
itself in their wake (one who had done the piloting).
I know now that some things do not come again.

I know now that some things do not come again.
Sister, I am a sinner. I say it in a rhyme
today, once, to you, because I saw all true
when you followed the children, and kept God’s good time.
I know now that some things do not come again.