Illustrator, Vivienne? 1947

Wishing Poem (prompt from Monday's Child)

I wish to lick the moon,

to hold your tears in a sugar spoon.

I wish the snow were made of gold

and I wish the young were never old.

I wish my eyes were brown, not blue

and the sky could recall each bird that flew.

I wish my thirst would let me be

and that dish of milk were enough for three.

I wish to fill a wishing well

and then go fishing for a spell.