Flying down the road like a diving eagle.
The sun shining down like a medal for the gods.
The concrete below me striking by.
The bottom of the road, approaching, approaching. ...
Sometimes, to solace my sad heart, I say,
Though late it be, though lily-time be past,
Though all the summer skies be overcast,
Haply I will go down to her, some day,
And cast my rests of life before her feet,
That she may have her will of me, being so sweet
And none gainsay!