ON the lips of the child Janet float changing dreams. It is a thin spiral of blue smoke, A morning campfire at a mountain lake. On the lips of the child Janet, Wisps of haze on ten miles of corn, Young light blue calls to young light gold of morning. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE ELEPHANT by HILAIRE BELLOC COMING DOWN TO THE DESERT AT LORDBURG, N.M. by HAYDEN CARRUTH IN QUEST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON IRELAND; WRITTEN FOR THE ART AUTOGRAPH DURING IRISH FAMINE by SIDNEY LANIER THE HARD TIMES IN ELFLAND; A STORY OF CHRISTMAS EVE by SIDNEY LANIER |