POETRY.
MY PNEUMATIC.
IN the airy whirling wheel is the springing strength of steel, And the sinew grows to steel day by day, Till you feel your pulses leap at the easy swing and sweep As the hedges flicker past upon your way.
Then it's out to the kiss of the morning breeze And the rose of the morning sky, And the long brown road where the tired spirit's load Slips off as the leagues go by !
Black-and-silver, swift and strong, with a pleasant undereong From the steady rippling murmur of the chain, Half a thing of life and will, you may feel it start and thrill With a quick elastic answer to the strain, As you ride to the kiss of the morning breeze And the rose of the morning sky, And the long brown road where the tired spirit's load Slips off as the leagues go by.
Miles a hundred you may run from the rising of the sun, To the gleam of the first white star.
You may ride through twenty towns, meet the sun upon the downs, Or the wind on the mountain scaur.
Then it's out to the kiss of the morning breeze And the rose of the morning sky, And the long brown road where the tired spirit's load Slips off as the leagues go by !
Down the pleasant country-side, through the woodland's summer pride, You have come in your forenoon spin.
And you never would have guessed how delicious is the rest In the shade by the wayside inn, When you've sought the kiss of the morning breeze, And the rose of the morning sky, And the long brown road where the tired spirit's load Slips off as the leagues go by.
There is many a one who teaches that the shining river- reaches Are the place to spend a long June day.
But give me the whirling wheel and a boat of air and steel To float upon the Queen's highway !
Oh give me the kiss of the morning breeze, And the rose of the morning sky, And the long brown road where the tired spirit's load Slips off as the leagues go by !
T. W. ROLLESTON.
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