38 ROUND ABOUT CHICAGO 



men and women of the city, too sluggish to "come 

 forth into the light of things." 



As we walk down the path through the thick 

 woods by the river, the low sun bursts through a 

 cloudbank to fleck the foliage and the ground 

 everywhere with goldi Everybody is picking 

 flowers to carry home. The men all take the 

 phlox, high, bright and showy, and crowd it out 

 of all beauty into tight bunches. The women 

 pick the low, dark woods-violets. All woman- 

 kind loves them best. 



How the springtime makes children of us all ! 



On the edge of the deep woods near the town, 

 ' in a broad green clearing, rings of youths and 

 maidens are playing some old-time game ; and we, 

 looking from afar, and hearing their cheery 

 voices, think of the May-day games of Merry 

 England. But as we pass close, there is wafted 

 over us a very breath of our own childhood, the 

 delicious melody (do you know it?): 



"I won't accept your silken gown, 

 Though every thread shall cost a pound. 

 Madam won't walk with you, you, you; 

 No ! Madam won't walk with you !" 



Alas! such fine scorn of worldly wealth belongs 

 only to children and the very old. Through the 

 middle years our vision is oblique. 



