152 



ROUND ABOUT CHICAGO 



all out of breath, we pause to reflect that there is 

 nothing to do and the livelong day to do it in, 

 and so we sit down to rest in the sweep of the 

 wind, while the children, wild with delight, run 



screaming down with giant strides, and then 

 struggle up the slipping sand again. 



Over the crest of the dune we are lost in a 

 waste of sunlit yellow billows and shadowy green 

 troughs, sombered here and there by what was 



