The Moon’s the North Wind’s Cooky

The Moon’s the North Wind’s cooky.
He bites it, day by day,
Until there’s but a rim of scraps
That crumble all away.

The South Wind is a baker.
He kneads clouds in his den,
And bakes a crisp new moon that . . . greedy
North . . . Wind . . . eats . . . again!

Analysis, meaning and summary of Vachel Lindsay's poem The Moon’s the North Wind’s Cooky

2 Comments

  1. Betsy Watson says:

    I remember hearing this in a song – I think Burl Ives sang it –

  2. grampy says:

    when I first read this poem, I thought back to more innocent times when there was more fantasy in the lives of children; the animation of inanimate objects like the moon, etc. I’m taking a chance on sending it to my granddaughter (13 yrs) as I believe that she will like it.

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