But, soft! What light through yonder bike shop window breaks? It is the east, and Gloria La Garibaldina Extra is the sun! Arise fair sun and kill the envious moon, Who is already sick and pale with grief That thou her cycle are more fair than she. Be not her cycle, since she is envious. Her vestal livery is but sick and green, And none but fools do wear it. Cast it off. It is my bike, oh, it is my love! Oh, that she knew she were! She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? Her chrome discourses, I will answer it. I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks. Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven, Having some business do entreat her lugs To twinkle on their tubes till they return. What if her lugs were there, they on her frame? The brightness of her chrome would shame those stars As daylight doth a lamp; her nickel plate in heaven Would through the airy region stream so bright That birds would sing and think it were not night. See how she leans her bars upon the wall! Oh that I might be a curtain upon that wall, That I might touch those bars!
Aldo Ross
Middletown, Ohio, USA