The Cycles of our fathers
Were "bone-shakers," and few,
But the cinder-path's broad field of fame
Shows what their sons can do.
When Wyndham rose, and Stanton fell,
The pace was cramped and slow;
Their creep to our sweep
Rouses Sturmey's scorn, you know—
Our Cycles now run fleet and strong,
And Sturmey's trumpets blow.