The Cyclist's Lament

[librarian]

With deep apologies to the memories of W.B.Yeats and John Gillespie Magee, Jr:

I know that I shall meet my fate
Somewhere 'neath the wheels of a HGV,
Or school run mum, pressed for time,
Or taxi fuelled fare running late.
Those who kill me, me do not love.
Yet those that kill me I do not hate.
My country is all cyclists fair,
My countrymen, all cyclists poor.
My lonely end will bring no loss
Not leave them happier than before.
No law or duty protects my ride
Not policeman or jeering crowds.
A lonely impulse of delight
Drove my tumult to the hills
I balanced all, brought all to mind, 
The years to come seemed waste of breath, 
A waste of breath the years behind
In balance with this life, this ride.

Oh! I have loosed the subtle bonds of traffic
And danced the roads on laughter-silvered wheels.
Sunward I’ve climbed and pierced the lonely heights
Of cloud-clad peaks – and rode a thousand miles
You have not dreamed of, wheeled, and roared and rode
High in the sunlit silence, Hov’ring there,
I’ve chased the shouting wind along and flung
My eager bike through footless falls of air…
Up, up the long, delirious burning slopes
I’ve topped the wind-swept heights with easy grace
Where never lark, nor ne’er eagle flew –
And, while with silent lifting mind I’ve rode
The high, untrespassed sanctity of space,
Put out my hand and touched the face of God.



I mean it about the apologies but both poems have been in my head for the last X number* of rides. 


*Where X is actually quite a high number.