I hope I am not the only cyclist who recites to themself (himself? him/herself? themselves? oneself? myself? ) poems to while away the boring bits of a journey? If you can get all the way through, say Kubla Khan in slow declamatory fashion a good two or three miles could slip by. And there is the bonus that out on the road you can recite out loud without the danger of members of your family throwing cushions at your head.
Here is one that seems just right for a long and arduous bike tour provided you have your accomodation booked and aren’t planning to camp.
Does the road wind up-hill all the way?
Yes, to the very end.
Will the day’s journey take the whole long day?
From morn to night, my friend.
But is there for the night a resting-place?
A roof for when the slow dark hours begin.
May not the darkness hide it from my face?
You cannot miss that inn.
Shall I meet other wayfarers at night?
Those who have gone before.
Then must I knock, or call when just in sight?
They will not keep you standing at that door.
Shall I find comfort, travel-sore and weak?
Of labor you shall find the sum.
Will there be beds for me and all who seek?
Yea, beds for all who come.
Nice steady rhythm there for a long haul up a climb like this one, which is not on my commute in Cheshire:
On reflection I think that something a little longer may be needed for this climb, Paradise Lost perhaps. Please send suggestions for further bikeable poems.