The earth voomed out like a baseball,"" says American Adam, age eight, of Creation; fourteen-year-old Edward Asare, from Ghana, contrives the wedding of fish and cornmeal and their safekeeping by Mr. Stomach; English Edward Crook, twelve, distinguishes between death (""It just wasn't sad, I was that young"") and bereavement (""I'm never going to play around in my mask and see Roger (the cat) in his forest of stems, and that's sad""). Like Miracles, Mr. Lewis' anthology of children's poetry, Journeys speaks in many voices -- observation, invention, empathy, anguish -- and admits of many hypotheses. On the influence of national origins, for one, or the roots of anxiety. But what matters most is the expressive strength of the selections themselves: whether brief or extended, fictive or evocative, they excel in metaphor -- the road ""sitting down"", chewing gum ""trying to scream it's way out (of) the torturer's mouth"" -- and discerning candor -- see the edgy confrontation in ""The Silence of Guilt"". And, more consistently than in adult writing, the form fits the content. Excellent.