Handfuls by Carl Sandburg | Poets.org

Blossoms of babies Blinking their stories Come soft On the dusk and the babble;

Handfuls

 

Blossoms of babies

Blinking their stories

Come soft

On the dusk and the babble;

Little red gamblers,

Handfuls that slept in the dust.

 

Summers of rain,

Winters of drift,

Tell of the years;

And they go back

 

Who came soft-

Back to the sod,

To silence and dust;

Gray gamblers,

Handfuls again.