That cold clear summer's morning I beheld thee Still as glass beneath a sky clear and fair Numb with cold I stood transfixed by dawning day And the weariness of those long cycled miles Under the beating sun, and a fulsome moon Had soaked my bones with sweet Irish marsh marrow And melted my heavy heart with whispering rhymes Lying on fresh-cut hay when weary eyes gave way And in my dreams I dreamt only of thee.
Ode to Cycling 