NANCY HANKS dreams by the fire; Dreams, and the logs sputter, And the yellow tongues climb. Red lines lick their way in flickers. Oh, sputter, logs. Oh, dream, Nancy. Time now for a beautiful child. Time now for a tall man to come. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: JOHN SCOFIELD by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A GIRL'S THOUGHTS by ISAAC ROSENBERG |