What lane is this Lost in these soft folds of green? Who wove your way Wandering around yonder bend? Bedecked with fully unfurled fern, The mossy trail trails away ... A solemn silence, save Sweet sound of bird unseen
Who trampled your way Leg-worn and weary, Wandering homeward With flock or herd?
This sunken cottage overgrown - Tumbled timbers Sagging stone The welcome-worn doorstep you So well knew has mossy grown
What air is this - Gently blown on summer blue? Breathing deep the heavy dew This morning light, sun-ray bright Misted beams beckon beyond This lane, The heaving hill I must clamber o'er.
This lane I must follow also For tomorrow I may know not .
Ode to Cycling 