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Child Moon

by Carl Sandburg, 1916

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.

Published in Chicago Poems

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