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 the roofs, with bridges of glass over the streets, with elevators at every corner; he will no longer be hungry, he will draw enormous energies from the ocean and from the warm bosom of the earth. Ah! my little boy, in what gardens of enchantment you are going to live!"

The little one listened hypnotized; the grandmother was quivering with happiness. A shining glory passed over their souls.

The Factories

(See pages 256, 307)

I have shut my little sister in from life and light (For a rose, for a ribbon, for a wreath across my hair), I have made her restless feet still until the night, Locked from sweets of summer and from wild spring air; I who ranged the meadow lands, free from sun to sun, Free to sing and pull the buds and watch the far wings fly, I have bound my sister till her playing-time is done— Oh, my little sister, was it I?—was it I?

I have robbed my sister of her day of maidenhood (For a robe, for a feather, for a trinket's restless spark), Shut from Love till dusk shall fall, how shall she know good, How shall she pass scatheless through the sinlit dark? I who could be innocent, I who could be gay, I who could have love and mirth before the light went by, I have put my sister in her mating-time away— Sister, my young sister,—was it I?—was it I?