Cycling Poems / Literature

I cycled lonely as a cloud
That rides on high o'er ben and glen,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of worldly audax men;
Along the road, in search of rest,
Climbing and descending towards Brest.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Towards the coast of Brittany:
A thousand saw I at a glance,
Fill the roads of western France.

The crowds on road sides cheered; but they
Out-did the local crowds in glee:
A poet could not but be proud,
In such a friendly happy crowd:
I gazed--still dazed--but little thought
What joy the ride to me had brought:

For oft, when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure grows,
And dances with our French heroes.