Poetry Archives

When I taught Ida how to ride a
  Bicycle that night,
I ran beside her, just to guide her
  Erring wheel aright;
And many times there in the street
She rode upon my weary feet.

But now can Ida mount and ride a
  Wheel with graceful ease,
And I, untiring in admiring,
  Fall upon my knees
To worship her,—and, for her part,
She rides upon my proffered heart!