(6 January 1878 – 22 July 1967 / Illinois)

Child Moon

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.

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Comments (2)

I love Carl Sandburg's poems. They are so sweet.
i am this the child that makes the moon her nightly sleeping pill