Therefore all randonnee’s shall be sweet to thee,
whether the summer clothe the general earth
with greenness, or the redbreast sit and sing
betwixt tufts of tweed on the bare unwrapped bar
of glossy Herse Cycle, while the nigh Brooks Pro
smokes in the sun-thaw; whither the bag balm?
Harken! Only in the trances of the last 34km,
or if the secret ministry of ACP officials
shall hang them up in silent secret controles,
quietly shining from whence
the quiet standlight illumins all.