A TWILIGHT SONG OF THE WHEEL.
Away from the office and desk at last,
The business-haunted room,
The roar of a city, hurrying past,
The heat, the worry, the gloom,
To the glorious red of the sunset sky,
The sweet, cold wine of the air,
On the frozen road, my wheel and I,
A dusty, rusty pair!
Push—Push—
Two birds in a bush
Are laughing to see me hop;
On, with a bound
From the frozen ground,
With never a sway nor stop.
Over and over the pedals fly—
“Come on!” to the twittering bird I cry,
As over and over the wheels fly past her;
Over and over, still faster and faster,
On through the ice-cold stream of air,
On where the road is frozen and bare.
Roll—Roll—Roll—Roll—
Silent and swift as a death-freed soul.
Glide—Glide—
On the smooth, black tide
Of the ocean of night flowing in from the West,
Over and over, and on without rest,
Swifter and swifter, till over the crest
Of the hill, and down to the valley below,
Through the murk of the mist and the white of the snow—
Now my steed falters, as, breathless and slow,
Up the steep hillside he labors and grinds,
Grinds—Grinds—Grinds—Grinds—
Across and across he turns and winds,
Sand-clogged and rock-hindered, without hope or faith,
No longer a soul, but a sin-burdened wraith—
Till, reaching the summit, he spurns the dark hill,
And onward he plunges, for good or for ill,
Over and onward, and onward and over,
He reels and he spins like a jolly old rover.
Roll—Roll—Roll—Roll—
Backward he flies to our one dear goal,
Where the whirling shall cease, and the rider shall rest,
And soft, trembling lips to my own shall be pressed.
Slow—Slow—Slow,
Slowly—more slowly—we go—
What, darling, so far on the road to-night,
To welcome us both with your eyes’ sweet light!
The wheel no longer has need to roam—
Be quiet, old fellow! we’re safe, safe at home.