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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=343768" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Cyclists</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=343768" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Spread on the roadway,<br>With open-blown jackets,<br>Like black, soaring pinions,<br>They swoop down the hillside,<br>The Cyclists.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=343768" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Seeming dark-plumaged<br>Birds, after carrion,<br>Careening and circling,<br>Over the dying<br>Of England.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=343768" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">She lies with her bosom<br>Beneath them, no longer<br>The Dominant Mother,<br>The Virile -- but rotting<br>Before time.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=343768" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The smell of her, tainted,<br>Has bitten their nostrils.<br>Exultant they hover,<br>And shadow the sun with<br>Foreboding.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Amy+Lowell">Amy Lowell</a></strong></div>

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