January 2024

We welcome the New Year and celebrate Burns night with some favourite poems from past and recent displays. This month we also feature poems on winter themes, a selection of Love poems, and Polish poems on the Underground

Poems for the New Year

Auld Lang Syne by Robert Burns

Auld Lang Syne by Robert Burns 'Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to min'? Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And days o' auld lang syne? We twa hae run about the braes, And pu'd the gowans fine; But we've wander'd mony a weary foot Sin' auld lang syne. We twa hae paidl't i' the burn, From mornin sun till dine; But seas between us braid hae roar'd Sin' auld lang syne. Chorus: For auld lang syne, my dear, For auld lang syne, We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet For auld lang syne.'

Promise by Jackie Kay

Promise by Jackie Kay: Remember, the time of year when the future appears like a blank sheet of paper a clean calendar, a new chance. On thick white snow you vow fresh footprints then watch them go with the wind’s hearty gust. Fill your glass. Here’s tae us. Promises made to be broken, made to last.'

Time to Be Slow by John O’Donohue

Time to be slow, John O’Donohue ‘This is the time to be slow, Lie low to the wall Until the bitter weather passes’

This is the Time to be Slow

Excerpt from For the Break-Up of a Relationship, from Benedictus (Europe) / To Bless the Space Between Us (US) by John O’Donohue

Expectans Expectavi by Anne Ridler

Expectans Expectavi by Anne Ridler (b.1912) Reprinted by permission of Carcanet from Collected Poems, 1994 ' The candid freezing season again: Candle and cracker, needles of fir and frost; Carols that through the night air pass, piercing The glassy husk of heart and heaven; Children's faces white in the pane, bright in the tree-light. And the waiting season again, That begs a crust and suffers joy vicariously: In bodily starvation now, in the spirit's exile always. O might the hilarious reign of love begin, let in Like carols from the cold The lost who crowd the pane, numb outcasts into welcome. '

The Great Frost by John Gay

The Great Frost by John Gay 'O Roving Muse, recall that wondrous year, When winter reigned in bleak Britannia's air; When hoary Thames, with frosted osiers crowned, Was three long moons in icy fetters bound. The waterman, forlorn along the shore, Pensive reclines upon his useless oar, Sees harnessed steeds desert the stony town, And wander roads unstable, not their own; Wheels o'er the hardened waters smoothly glide, And rase with whitened tracks the slippery tide. Here the fat cook piles high the blazing fire, And scarce the spit can turn the steer entire. Booths sudden hide the Thames, long streets appear, And numerous games proclaim the crowded fair.'

Now Winter Nights Enlarge by Thomas Campion

Now winter nights enlarge by Thomas Campion 'Now winter nights enlarge The number of their hours, And clouds their storms discharge Upon the airy towers. Let now the chimneys blaze And cups o’erflow with wine: Let well-tun'd words amaze With harmony divine. Now yellow waxen lights Shall wait on honey Love, While youthful Revels, Masks, and Courtly sights, Sleep’s leaden spells remove. This time doth well dispense With lovers’ long discourse; Much speech hath some defence, Though beauty no remorse. All do not all things well; Some measures comely tread; Some knotted Riddles tell; Some Poems smoothly read. The summer hath his joys, And Winter his delights; Though love and all his pleasures are but toys, They shorten tedious nights.'

Winter Poems on the Underground

Up in the Morning Early by Robert Burns

Up in the Morning Early by Robert Burns 1759-1796 ' Cauld blaws the wind frae east to west, The drift is driving sairly; Sae loud and shrill's I hear the blast, I'm sure it's winter fairly. Up in the morning's no for me, Up in the morning early; When a' the hills are wi' snaw, I'm sure it's winter fairly. The birds sit chittering in the thorn, A' day they fare but sparely; And lang's the night frae e'en to morn, I'm sure it's winter fairly. Up in the morning's no for me, Up in the morning early; When a' the hills are wi' snaw, I'm sure it's winter fairly. '

Snow by Louis MacNeice

Snow by Louis MacNeice ' The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was Spawning snow and pink roses against it Soundlessly collateral and incompatible: World is suddener than we fancy it. World is crazier and more of it than we think, Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion A tangerine and spit the pips and feel The drunkenness of things being various. And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for the world Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes - On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of one's hands -There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses. 'Louis MacNeice (1907-1963 )Reprinted by permission of Faber & Faber from The Collected Poems of Louis MacNeice 100 Poems on the Underground

A 14 Year old Convalescent cat in the Winter by Gavin Ewart

Gavin Ewart , A 14 year old Convalescent Cat in the Winter Poems on the Underground 1995 ' I want him to have another living summer, to lie in the sun and enjoy the douceur de vivre- because the sun, like golden rum in a rummer, is what makes an idle cat un tout petit peu ivre- I want him to lie stretched out, contented, revelling in the heat, his fur all dry and warm, an Old Age Pensioner, retired, resented by no one, and happinesses in a beelike swarm to settle on him – postponed for another season that last fated hateful journey to the vet from which there is no return (and age the reason), which must come soon – as I cannot forget''

Fenland Station in Winter by Katherine Pierpoint

Fenland Station in Winter by Katherine Pierpoint 'The railway station in winter lies wide open on three sides; A waiting mousetrap. No creatures out in the hard fields, The desert of blue-lipped ice. The tracks tweeze the last thin train away, Wipe it on the rim, and lose it. The sky is bent so low now, the wind is horizontal. It whittles the sky's undersurface to the pith, Paring away a grey unwinding peel of snow. A mean, needling flake rides the flat wind, Picking the empty teeth of the trees, Then falling, frantic, to gnaw at the setting earth, Clinging there like a starving mouse's claws in velvet.'

Emmonsails Heath in Winter by John Clare

John Clare (1793-1864), Emmonsails Heath in Winter 'I love to see the old heath's withered brake Mingle its crimpled leaves with furze and ling While the old heron from the lonely lake Starts slow and flaps his melancholly wing, And oddling crow in idle motion swing On the half-rotten ash tree's topmost twig, Beside whose trunk the gipsy makes his bed . Up flies the bouncing woodcock from the brig Where a black quagmire quakes beneath the tread, The fieldfare chatter in the whistling thorn And for the haw round fields and closen rove, And coy bumbarrels twenty in a drove Flit down the hedge rows in the frozen plain And hang on little twigs and start again.'

Winter Travels by Bei Dao translated by David Hinton with Yanbing Chen

Winter Travels, Bei Dao ' who's typing on the void too many stories they're twelve stones hitting the clockface twelve swans flying out of winter tongues in the night describe gleams of light blind bells cry out for someone absent entering the room you see that jester's entered winter leaving behind flame'

Love Poems on the Underground

John Anderson my jo by Robert Burns

A Red Red Rose by Robert Burns

A Red, Red Rose by Robert Burns Poems on the Underground 1992 poster 'O my Luve's like a red, red rose, That’s newly sprung in June; O my Luve's like the melodie That’s sweetly play'd in tune. As fair art thou, my bonnie lass, So deep in luve am I; And I will love thee still, my Dear, Till a’ the seas gang dry. Till a’ the seas gang dry, my Dear, And the rocks melt wi’ the sun: O I will love thee still, my Dear, While the sands o’ life shall run. And fare thee weel, my only Luve! And fare thee weel, a while! And I will come again, my Luve, Tho' it were ten thousand mile!'

Lesson by Ann Stevenson

Love Poems on the Underground Lesson. Anne Stevenson. The girls and boys in winter know That love is like the drifting snow;

from Tell Me the Truth About Love by W.H. Auden

lines from "Tell Me the Truth About Love" by W.H. Auden ' When it comes, will it come without warning Just as I'm picking my nose? Will it knock on my door in the morning, Or tread in the bus on my toes? Will it come like a change in the weather? Will its greeting be courteous or rough? Will it alter my life altogether? O tell me the truth about love.' W.H. Auden (1907 -73 By permission of Faber from Collected Poems, revised edition (2007) Music by Benjamin Britten is © Faber Music and the Trustees of the Britten - Pears Foundation and appears by permission

So We’ll go no more a -roving by Lord byron

So We'll Go No More A-Roving by Lord Byron Poems on the Underground 1996 'So, we'll go no more a-roving So late into the night, Though the heart be still as loving, And the moon be still as bright. For the sword outwears its sheath, And the soul wears out the breast, And the heart must pause to breathe, And Love itself have rest. Though the night was made for loving, And the day returns too soon, Yet we'll go no more a-roving By the light of the moon.'

The Passionate Shepherd to his Love by Christopher Marlowe

The Passionate Shepherd to his Love by Christopher Marlowe (1564-93) Lute accompaniment by William Corkine Second Booke of Ayres (1612) ' Come live with me, and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove, That valleys, groves, hills and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields. And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers, to whose falls, Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses, And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle, Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle. A belt of straw, and ivy buds, With coral clasps and amber studs, And if these pleasures may thee move, Then live with me, and be my love.'

To my Dear and Loving Husband by Anne Bradstreet

To My Dear & Loving Husband by Anne Bradstreet (1612-72) ' If ever two were one, then surely we. If ever man were loved by wife, then thee; If ever wife was happy in a man Compare with me ye women if you can. I prize thy love more than whole mines of gold, Or all the riches that the East doth hold. My love is such that rivers cannot quench, Nor ought but love from thee give recompence. Thy love is such I can no way repay, The heavens reward thee manifold I pray. Then while we live, in love let's so persever, That when we live no more, we may live ever. ' Poems on the Underground The British Library (Zweig Programme) London Arts Board Design Tom Davidson

Poems of Thanks

Benediction by James Berry

Benediction, James Berry 'Thanks to the ear that someone may hear Thanks to seeing that someone may see Thanks to feeling that someone may feel Thanks to touch that one may be touched Thanks to flowering of white moon and spreading shawl of black night holding villages and cities together'

Prayer for my Father as a Child by Miriam Nash

Prayer by Carol Ann Duffy

Prayer, Carol Ann Duffy 1999 poster, Poems on the Underground 1,000 Years of Poetry in English 'Some days, although we cannot pray, a prayer utters itself. So, a woman will lift her head from the sieve of her hands and stare at the minims sung by a tree, a sudden gift. Some nights, although we are faithless, the truth enters our hearts, that small familiar pain; then a man will stand stock-still, hearing his youth in the distant Latin chanting of a train. Pray for us now. Grade 1 piano scales console the lodger looking out across a Midlands town. Then dusk, and someone calls a child's name as though they named their loss. Darkness outside. Inside, the radio's prayer - Rockall. Malin. Dogger. Finisterre.'

Thanks Forever by Milton Kessler

Milton Kessler, Thanks Forever ' Look at those empty ships floating north between south-running ice like big tulips in the Narrows under the Verrazano toward the city harbour.'

from Tintern Abbey by William Wordsworth

from Tintern Abbey by William Wordsworth ' For I have learned To look on nature, not as in the hour Of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes The still, sad music of humanity, Nor harsh nor grating, though of ample power To chasten and subdue. And I have felt A presence that disturbs me with the joy Of elevated thoughts; a sense sublime Of something far more deeply interfused, Whose dwelling is the light of setting suns, And the round ocean and the living air, And the blue sky, and in the mind of man...'

from Auguries of Innocence by William Blake

Polish Poems on the Underground

Nothing Special by Zbegniew Herbert translated by Czeslaw Milosz and Peter Dale Scott

Nothing Special, Zbigniew Herbert,' nothing special boards paint nails paste paper string mr artist builds a world not from atoms but from remnants'

Star by Adam Zagajewski translated by Clare Cavanagh

Star, Adam Zagajewski 'I returned to you years later, gray and lovely city, unchanging city buried in the waters of the past.'

Blacksmith Shop by Czeslaw Milosz translated by Czeslaw Milosz and Robert Hass

Blacksmith Shop, Czeslaw Milosz ' I liked the bellows operated by rope. A hand or foot pedal- I don't remember which. But that blowing, and the blazing of the fire!'

The Windhover by Gerard Manley Hopkins

The Windhover, Gerard Manley Hopkins I caught this morning morning's minion, kingdom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn Falcon,'

At Sixty by Christine de Luca

At Sixty, Christine De Luca ' Dat line whaar birds, hurless, cross a treshel-tree, winter at der back, or a skirl o simmer afore dem.'

Ourstory by Carole Satyamurti

Carole Satyamurti , Ourstory ' Let us now praise women with feet glass slippers wouldn't fit; not the patient, nor even the embittered ones who kept their place'

You can see our poems from 2023 here