With the grey-green lake at its feet--
The strong breezes sweeping across it--
The eddying crowds in its streets!
I felt the clasp of your fingers,
Comforting, warm and near;
But I did not turn on my pillow--
For I knew you would not be here!
For the urge of the far-away city,
And the face that I would not see-
Were there in your vibrant summons,
'Come back to Chicago--and me!'
Published in The Messenger, July 1925