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by Carl Sandburg, 1916

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 off the years;
 And they go back
 Who came soft—
 Back to the sod,
 To silence and dust;
 Gray gamblers,
   Handfuls again.

Published in Chicago Poems
Published in Cornhuskers

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