Here's a poem
WALT WHITMAN GETS ON A BICYCLE
Sing to me, you cranks! and thou my chain, give forth thy creaking canticle,
A song of complaint, yet a song that I myself sing,
Plaintive, but testifying to motion.
And you rotate not but I rotate also,
Taking motion from some other place and turning it to useful purpose.
To grocery-store, office, or BART station, thither you shall bear me,
I at once your burden and your motivator.
And head-winds! and hills that rise silently and forbid me silently to go forward,
I defy you and drive my pedals steadily,
For I know that you also must descend, and then I with you,
Gathering speed, picking up speed, my soul drawn to its destination,
(For such is the burden my bicycle bears.)
Sing to me, you cranks! and thou my chain, give forth thy creaking canticle,
A song of complaint, yet a song that I myself sing,
Plaintive, but testifying to motion.
And you rotate not but I rotate also,
Taking motion from some other place and turning it to useful purpose.
To grocery-store, office, or BART station, thither you shall bear me,
I at once your burden and your motivator.
And head-winds! and hills that rise silently and forbid me silently to go forward,
I defy you and drive my pedals steadily,
For I know that you also must descend, and then I with you,
Gathering speed, picking up speed, my soul drawn to its destination,
(For such is the burden my bicycle bears.)