London Poems on the Underground

Reading : Symphony in Yellow by Oscar Wilde

Symphony in Yellow by Oscar Wilde, 1998 Poems on the Underground poster 'An omnibus across the bridge Crawls like a yellow butterfly, And, here and there, a passer-by Shows like a little restless midge. Big barges full of yellow hay Are moored against the shadowy wharf, And, like a yellow silken scarf, The thick fog hangs along the quay. The yellow leaves begin to fade And flutter from the Temple elms, And at my feet the pale green Thames Lies like a rod of rippled jade.'
Oscar Wilde, Symphony in Yellow An omnibus across the bridge Crawls like a yellow butterfly, And, here and there, a passer-by Shows like a little restless midge. Big barges full of yellow hay Are moored against the shadowy wharf, And, like a yellow silken scarf, The thick fog hangs along the quay. The yellow leaves begin to fade And flutter from the Temple elms, And at my feet the pale green Thames Lies like a rod of rippled jade.'

Twyford : from An Essay on Man by Alexander Pope

from An Essay on Man by Alexander Pope (1688 - 1744) 'Know then thyself, presume not God to scan; The proper study of Mankind is Man. Plac'd on this isthmus of a middle state, A being darkly wise, and rudely great: With too much knowledge for the Sceptic side, With too much weakness for the Stoic's pride, He hangs between; in doubt to act, or rest, In doubt to deem himself a God, or Beast; In doubt his Mind or Body to prefer, Born but to die, and reas'ning but to err... Created half to rise, and half to fall; Great lord of all things, yet a prey to all; Sole judge of Truth, in endless Error hurl'd: The glory, jest, and riddle of the world!'

Maidenhead : Chilling Out Beside the Thames by John Agard

Chilling Out Beside the Thames, John Agard ‘Summer come, mi chill-out beside the Thames. Spend a little time with weeping willow.’

Taplow : Silver by Walter de la Mare

Silver, Walter de la Mare ' Slowly, silently, now the moon Walks the night in her silver shoon; This way, and that, she peers, and sees Silver fruit upon silver trees; One by one the casements catch Her beams beneath the silvery thatch; Couched in his kennel, like a log, With paws of silver sleeps the dog; From their shadowy cote the white breasts peep Of doves in a silver-feathered sleep; A harvest mouse goes scampering by, With silver claws, and a silver eye; And moveless fish in the water gleam, By silver reeds in a silver stream.'

Burham : The Very Leaves of the Acacia-Tree are London by Kathleen Raine

Kathleen Raine, The Very Leaves of the Acacia-Tree are London ' The very leaves of the acacia-tree are London; London tap-water fills out the fuchsia buds in the back garden, Blackbirds pull London worms out of the sour soil, The woodlice, centipedes, eat London, the wasps even. London air through stomata of myriad leaves And million lungs of London breathes. Chlorophyll and haemoglobin do what life can To purify, to return this great explosion To sanity of leaf and wing. Gradual and gentle the growth of London pride, And sparrows are free of all the time in the world: Less than a window-pane between.'

Slough : Our Town With the Whole of India by Daljit Nagra

Our Town with the Whole of India, Daljit Nagra 'Our town in England with the whole of India sundering out of its temples, mandirs and mosques for the customised streets. Our parade, clad in cloak-orange with banners and tridents, chanting from station to station for Vaisakhi over Easter. Our full-moon madness for Eidh with free pavement tandooris and legless dancing to boostered cars. Our Guy Fawkes’ Diwali – a kingdom of rockets for the Odysseus-trials of Rama who arrowed the jungle foe to re-palace the Penelope-faith of his Sita. '

Langley : from The Mind is an Ancient and Famous Capital by Delmore Schwartz

from The Mind Is An Ancient and Famous Capital by Delmore Schwartz 'The mind is a city like London, Smoky and populous: it is a capital Like Rome, ruined and eternal, Marked by the monuments which no one Now remembers. For the mind, like Rome, contains Catacombs, aqueducts, amphitheatres, palaces, Churches and equestrian statues, fallen, broken, or soiled. The mind possesses and is possessed by all the ruins Of every haunted, hunted generation’s celebration.'

Iver : Go Where We May by Thomas Moore

London Poems on the Underground Go where we may, Thomas Moore. Go where we may, rest where we will, Eternal London haunts us still.

West Drayton : from Autumn Journal by Louis MacNeice

from Autumn Journal, Louis MacNeice ‘September has come, it is hers Whose vitality leaps in the autumn, Whose nature prefers Trees without leaves and a fire in the fireplace . . .’

Terminal 5 : from Jerusalem by William Blake

London Poems on the Underground From Jerusalem, William Blake. The fields from Islington to Marylebone, To Primrose Hill and Saint John's Wood,

Terminal 4 : Barter by Nii Ayikwei Parkes

Barter, Nii Ayikwei Parkes ‘That first winter alone, the true meaning Barter of all the classroom rhymes that juggled snow and go, old and cold, acquired new leanings.’

Terminals 1, 2, 3 : London Airport by Christopher Logue

London Airport, Christopher Logue 'Last night in London Airport I saw a wooden bin labelled UNWANTED LITERATURE IS TO BE PLACED HEREIN. So I wrote a poem and popped it in.'

Hayes & Harlington : No. 3 from Uses for the Thames by Jane Draycott

No.3 from Uses for the Thames, Jane Draycott ‘The test was to dip the needles into the dark of the swallowing mirror’

Southall : Finding India in Unexpected Places by Sujata Bhatt

World Poems on the Underground: Finding India in Unexpected Places Sujata Bhatt. A street in Bath, a bus in Medellin, a gesture in Gyeongju

Hanwell : A Trojan Horse in Trafalgar Square by George Szirtes

A Trojan horse in Trafalgar Square George Szirtes ‘We stood in Trafalgar Square completely covered in pigeons but looking all too pleased to find such wholehearted acceptance. We were the boys of the awkward squad, growing at an angle.’

West Ealing : Summoned by Bells by John Betjeman

from Summoned by Bells by John Betjeman (1906-84) Poems on the Underground 1995 ' Great was my joy with London at my feet - All London mine, five shillings in my hand And not expected back till after tea! Great was our joy, Ronald Hughes Wright's and mine, To travel by the Underground all day Between the rush hours, so that very soon There was no station, north to Finsbury Park, To Barking eastwards, Clapham Common south, No temporary platform in the west Among the Actons and the Ealings, where We had not once alighted. Metroland Beckoned us out to lanes in beechy Bucks - Goldschmidt and Howland (in a wooden hut Beside the station): 'Most attractive sites Ripe for development'; Charrington's for coal; And not far off the neo-Tudor shops.'
from Summoned by Bells by John Betjeman Poems on the Underground 2013 ‘Great was our joy, Ronald Hughes Wright's and mine, To travel by the Underground all day Between the rush hours, so that very soon There was no station, north to Finsbury Park, To Barking eastwards, Clapham Common south, No temporary platform in the west Among the Actons and the Ealings, where We had not once alighted.'

Ealing Broadway : Stations by Connie Bensley

Stations, Connie Bensley ‘As he travels home on the Northern Line he is reviewing his marriage.’

Acton Main Line : Our Meetings by Andrew Waterman

Our Meetings, Andrew Waterman ‘As in the Underground there’s no mistaking the train’s approach, it pushes air ahead, whirls paper, the line sings, a sort-of dread suffusing longing and my platform shaking – so it is before our every meeting, till you arrive. Hear how my heart is beating! ‘

Paddington : On The Thames by Karen McCarthy Woolf

On the Thames, Karen McCarthy Woolf ‘The houseboat tilts into the water at low tide, ducklings slip in mud. Nothing is stable in this limbo summer, where he leaves his shoes in the flat.’

Bond Street : After the Lunch by Wendy Cope

London Poems on the Underground After the Lunch, Wendy Cope. On Waterloo Bridge, where we said our goodbyes, The weather conditions bring tears to my eyes.

Tottenham Court Road : Bam Chi Chi La La London, 1969 by Lorna Goodison

Bam Chi Chi La La London, 1969, Lorna Goodison ‘In Jamaica she was a teacher. Here, she is charwoman at night in the West End. She eats a cold midnight meal carried from home’

Farringdon : City by John Betjeman

City, John Betjeman ‘When the great bell BOOMS over the Portland stone urn, and From the carved cedar wood Rises the odour of incense,’

Liverpool Street : Gherkin Music by Jo Shapcott

Gherkin Music, Jo Shapcott ‘walk the spiral up out of the pavement into your own reflection, into transparency, into the space where flat planes are curves and you are transposed’

Whitechapel : Stationery by Agha Shahid Ali

Stationery, Agha Shahid Ali ' The moon did not become the sun. It just fell on the desert in great sheets, reams of silver handmade by you. The night is your cottage industry now, the day is your brisk emporium. The world is full of paper. Write to me. '

Stratford : The London Eye by Patience Agbabi

The London Eye, Patience Agbabi 'Through my gold-tinted Gucci sunglasses, the sightseers. Big Ben's quarter chime strikes the convoy of number 12 buses that bleeds into the city's monochrome. Through somebody's zoom lens, me shouting to you, "Hello...on...bridge...'minster!' The aerial view postcard, the man writing squat words like black cabs in rush hour. The South Bank buzzes with a rising treble. You kiss my cheek, formal as a blind date. We enter Cupid's Capsule, a thought bubble where I think, 'Space age!', you think 'She was late.' Big Ben strikes six, my SKIN. Beat blinks, replies 18.02. We're moving anti-clockwise.'

Maryland : Misty by Ruth Padel

Misty by Ruth Padel ' How I love The darkwave music Of a sun's eclipse You can't see for cloud The saxophonist playing 'Misty' In the High Street outside Barclays Accompanied by mating-calls Sparked off In a Jaguar alarm The way you're always there Where I'm thinking Or several beats ahead.'

Forest Gate : Like a Beacon by Grace Nichols

Like A Beacon, Grace Nichols 'In London every now and then I get this craving for my mother’s food I leave art galleries in search of plantains saltfish/sweet potatoes I need this link I need this touch of home swinging my bag like a beacon against the cold'
Like A Beacon, Grace Nichols 2009 Poster 'In London every now and then I get this craving for my mother’s food I leave art galleries in search of plantains saltfish/sweet potatoes I need this link I need this touch of home swinging my bag like a beacon against the cold'
Like A Beacon, Grace Nichols 2013 Poster 'In London every now and then I get this craving for my mother’s food I leave art galleries in search of plantains saltfish/sweet potatoes I need this link I need this touch of home swinging my bag like a beacon against the cold'

Manor Park : London Fields by Michael Rosen

London Fields, Michael Rosen ‘Evening falls between the trees The drumming for Ghana fills the leaves’

Ilford : Living by Denise Levertov

Living, Denise Levertov ' The fire in leaf and grass so green it seems each summer the last summer. The wind blowing, the leaves shivering in the sun, each day the last day.'

Seven Kings : from To the City of London by William Dunbar

from To the City of London, William Dunbar ' To the City of London Above all rivers they river hath renown, Whose beryl streames, pleasant and preclare, Under thy lusty walles runneth down; Where many a swan doth swim with winges fair, Where many a barge doth sail, and row with oar, Where many a ship doth rest with top-royal. O town of townes, patron and not compare, London, thou art the flower of cities all. '

Goodmayes : The Conversation of Old Men by Thom Gunn

The Conversation of Old Men, Thom Gunn ‘He feels a breeze rise from the Thames, as far off as Rotherhithe, in intimate contact with water, slimy hulls,’

Chadwell Heath : Ballad of the Londoner by James Elroy Flecker

Romford : Love by Hannah Lowe

Love, Hannah Lowe ‘Mornings, we’d find salmon bagels from Brick Lane, Char siu buns and Soho flower rolls, A box of Motichoor’

Gidea Park : Thaw by Edward Thomas

Thaw, Edward Thomas ' Over the land freckled with snow half-thawed The speculating rooks at their nests cawed And saw from elm-tops, delicate as flowers of grass, What we below could not see, Winter pass'

Harold Wood : Circulation by Laura Harray

Circulation, Laura Harray ‘Here is London’s circulation system, dissection points of the city’s veins.’

Brentwood : Vacillation by W.B. Yeats

Vacillation, W. B Yeats ‘My fiftieth year had come and gone, I sat, a solitary man, In a crowded London shop, An open book and empty cup On the marble table-top.’

Shenfield : Immigrant by Fleur Adcock

Immigrant, Fleur Adcock 'November '63: eight months in London. I pause on the low bridge to watch the pelicans:'

Canary Wharf : Cries of London by Anon

The Cries of London 'here's fine rosemary, sage and thyme. Come buy my ground ivy. here's fetherfew, gilliflowers and rue.'

Custom House : Tagus Farewell by Sir Thomas Wyatt

Tagus Farewell, Sir Thomas Wyatt 'Tagus, farewell, that westward with thy streams Turns up the grains of gold already tried: With spur and sail for I go seek the Thames, Gainward the sun that showeth her wealthy pride, And to the town which Brutus sought by dreams Like bended moon doth lend her lusty side. My King, my Country, alone for whom I live, Of mighty love the wings for this me give.'

Woolwich : Sweet Thames Flow Softly by Ewan MacColl

London Poems on the Underground Sweet Thames Flow Softly, Ewan MacColl. I met my girl at Woolwich Pier, beneath a big crane standing.

Abbey Wood : The flags by Matthew Paskins

The flags Matthew Paskins Award Winner - Simon Elvin Young Poets of the Year, Young Poets on the Underground ' Ships reflected on the waves are flags of countries yet unknown whose borders are identified by sunlight on the pavingstone. Unfurl the flag. Go on. Unfurl the bridge bands on the river-skin the battle-ships and towers in the melted pearl maybe a story, as well that skims the water's upper-edge, the walk beside the silver-dance when the light is on the Thames.'