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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A WATERFOWL by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT EASTER by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES A SNOW-STORM; SCENE IN A VERMONT WINTER by CHARLES GAMAGE EASTMAN THE LAND OF COUNTERPANE by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 130 by ALFRED TENNYSON LOVE'S WISDOM by ALFRED AUSTIN |