The child next door has a wreath on her hat; Her afternoon frock sticks out like that, All soft and frilly; She doesn't believe in fairies at all (She told me over the garden wall) -- She thinks they're silly. The child next door has a watch of her own; She has shiny hair and her name is Joan; (Mine's only Mary). But doesn't it seem very sad to you To think that she never her whole life through Has seen a fairy? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: PAULINE BARRETT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE HARVEST MOON; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE PREACHER by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER THE POWER OF MUSIC by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH MARGARET FULLER by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT |