Carl Sandburg

The Year

I

 
A STORM of white petals,  
Buds throwing open baby fists  
Into hands of broad flowers.  
 

II

 
Red roses running upward,  
Clambering to the clutches of life      
Soaked in crimson.  
 

III

 
Rabbles of tattered leaves  
Holding golden flimsy hopes  
Against the tramplings  
Into the pits and gullies.          
 

IV

 
Hoarfrost and silence:  
Only the muffling  
Of winds dark and lonesome—  
Great lullabies to the long sleepers.

Cornhuskers. 1918.

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