Could the man who rode thee gaily here remount thee to return?
Return, alas! My iron steed, what can thy master do
But leave thee here and limp along till home appears in view?
When the long distance tires me I will rest while fancies queer,
Thy bright form will restore, and thou’lt a new machine appear.
Slow and unmounted must I go with weary foot alone,
Where with fleet wheels fast whirling round thou once did’st bear me on;
And sitting down in some hotel I o’er my beer will think,
I nearly broke my blessed neck when last I rode full clink.
When last I rode full clink! Away! the fever’d dream is o’er;