So mostly I'm being an opportunistic bastard and abusing the work of Yeats (not even Romantic!) to suggest a clear link between the great poets and cycling. If this stanza isn't about bike racing, then no poem ever was nor ever will be:
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned.
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity
Go on, drop a line or two in honour of manufactured and meaningless holidays - and bike racing of course. Do your worst, I dare you...