To My Cycle

Dear other eelf, so silent. swift and surs, jíy dtmib eompanion of delightfnl dayg, Kight fairy fingers from thy orbit rays Of steel strike musió, as the goda oí yore From reed orshell. What raelodies would poar On my glad earsl What songa oL woodland ways, Of summer's wealth of eorn or the sweet laya Of April's budding green, whilo evermore "We twain, one living thing, flash like the llght Down the long tracks that stretch from sky to skyl Thou hast thy mosto too. What time the noo Beats sultry on broad roads, when, gathering night, We drink the keen edged air, or, darkling, fly 'Twixt hedgerows blackenod 07 a mystic moon.