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...RAIN MUSIC by JOSEPH SEAMON COTTER JR. NOCTURNAL SKETCH; BLANK VERSE IN RHYME by THOMAS HOOD TO E. L., ON HIS TRAVELS IN GREECE by ALFRED TENNYSON QUATRAIN: FROM EASTERN SOURCES: 3 by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH THE TIMES by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD 1916 SEEN FROM 1921 by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN OSWEGO LAKE by MARGARET BRADSHAW |