Care-worn city clerks it hurries off to
nature’s fairest scenes
Flower-decked meads and, trellised hop-grounds;
babbling brooks and village greens.
Round-backed artisans it bears, too, from
the small and stuffy room,
To the lanes where trailing roses all the
summer air perfumes;
And it makes them grow forgetful of the
stifling, man-made town,
As they climb the breezy roadway o’er
the swelling, God-made down.
1890s poem about bicycling.