THE child's wonder At the old moon Comes back nightly. She points her finger To the far silent yellow thing Shining through the branches Filtering on the leaves a golden sand, Crying with her little tongue, "See the moon!" And in her bed fading to sleep With babblings of the moon on her little mouth. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THREE SONNETS by RICHARD WILBUR CRITIC AND POET by EMMA LAZARUS TO-MORROW TO FRESH WOODS AND PASTURES NEW' by AMY LOWELL SURFACES AND MASKS; 30 by CLARENCE MAJOR SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: ALBERT SCHIRDING by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A HYMN OF HATE by DOROTHY PARKER |