Light upon the pedal,
Firm upon the seat.
Fortune's wheel in fetters
Fast beneath our feet,
Leave the clouds behind us,
Split the wind we meet,
Swift, oh, swift and silent,
Roiling down the street !
When the dark comes, twinkling
Like fire flies in the wheat,
Bells before us tinkling
Fairily and feat,
By the gate of gardens,
Where the dusk is sweet,
Slide like apparitions
Through the startled street !
Spearmen in the desert
Maybe fly as fleet,
Northern lights in heaven,
Sparkle on the sleet !
Swift, oh, swift and silent,
Just before we greet
The outer edge of nothing
Turn rolling up the street !
--Harriet Prescott Spofford, in August "St Nicholas."
Notes
From the Victorian Newspaper The Geelong Advertiser 17 Oct 1896 p. 1.
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