Page:Slabs of the sunburnt West.djvu/18

4 Out of the payday songs of steam shovels, Out of the wages of structural iron rivets, The living lighted skyscrapers tell it now as a name, Tell it across miles of sea blue water, gray blue land: So between the Great Lakes, The Grand De Tour, and the Grand Prairie, The living lighted skyscrapers stand, Singing a soft moaning song: I am a child, a belonging. How should the wind songs of a windy city go? Singing in a high wind the dirty chatter gets blown away on the wind — the clean shovel, the clean pickax, lasts. It is easy for a child to get breakfast and pack off to school with a pair of roller skates, buns for lunch, and a geography. Riding through a tunnel under a river running backward, to school to listen. . . how the Pottawattamies. . . and the Blackhawks. . . ran on moccasins. . . between Kaskaskia, Peoria, Kankakee, and Chicago.