ON WINGS OF LOVE
By S. Conant Foster
Outing And The Wheelman
March 1884
Freshets rushing,
Bridges crushing,
Stay the way of
Train and team -
What bold stranger
Braves the danger?
Who doth cross yon
Angry stream?
Strong and swiftly,
Deep and deftly,
Dip his paddles
In the tide;
Bravely done, sir!
Nobly won, sir!
See! he gains the
Other side.
Wheel he carries,
Waits nor tarries,
Mounts, and quickly
Rolls away;
While in wheeling,
Joyous feeling
Vents in happy
Roundelay.
"'Cycle, 'cycle,
Whirling 'cycle,
Tell thy rider,
An' thou please,
What sweet saying
Love betraying,
Thou dost whisper
To the breeze.
"Nay, my beauty,
'Tis thy duty
To unfold thy
Wisdom. Come!
Voice thy learning
To thy turning;
What! in whisper
Still art dumb?
"Rogue of metal!
Leaf and petal,
Twig and shrub on
Either side;
Wondering prattle,
As we rattle;
Tell them why so
Swift we ride.
"Still, dost falter?
At the altar,
All impatient,
Waits a bride;
That is why we
Hurry by thee,
That is why so
Swift we ride.
"On! O 'cycle!
Knavish 'cycle!
Churl to make thy
Master speak;
On to meet her!
On to greet her!
On! till journals
Smoke and creak.
"Hark! O 'cycle!
From St. Michael
Tolls the appointed
Hour of four;
Hurry! speed ye!
Fly! for heed ye,
She doth signal
From the door."
By S. Conant Foster
Outing And The Wheelman
March 1884
Freshets rushing,
Bridges crushing,
Stay the way of
Train and team -
What bold stranger
Braves the danger?
Who doth cross yon
Angry stream?
Strong and swiftly,
Deep and deftly,
Dip his paddles
In the tide;
Bravely done, sir!
Nobly won, sir!
See! he gains the
Other side.
Wheel he carries,
Waits nor tarries,
Mounts, and quickly
Rolls away;
While in wheeling,
Joyous feeling
Vents in happy
Roundelay.
"'Cycle, 'cycle,
Whirling 'cycle,
Tell thy rider,
An' thou please,
What sweet saying
Love betraying,
Thou dost whisper
To the breeze.
"Nay, my beauty,
'Tis thy duty
To unfold thy
Wisdom. Come!
Voice thy learning
To thy turning;
What! in whisper
Still art dumb?
"Rogue of metal!
Leaf and petal,
Twig and shrub on
Either side;
Wondering prattle,
As we rattle;
Tell them why so
Swift we ride.
"Still, dost falter?
At the altar,
All impatient,
Waits a bride;
That is why we
Hurry by thee,
That is why so
Swift we ride.
"On! O 'cycle!
Knavish 'cycle!
Churl to make thy
Master speak;
On to meet her!
On to greet her!
On! till journals
Smoke and creak.
"Hark! O 'cycle!
From St. Michael
Tolls the appointed
Hour of four;
Hurry! speed ye!
Fly! for heed ye,
She doth signal
From the door."
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