May 2025

This month our May poems celebrate traditional festivals, the renewal of nature and the rebirth of love.

We also feature a selection of poems Birds and Beasts, Stars and Planets recorded in 1995 for Poems on the Underground

The Argument of His Book by Robert Herrick (1591 - 1674) 'I sing of Brooks, of Blossomes, Birds, and Bowers: Of April, May, of June, and July-Flowers. I sing of May-poles, Hock-carts, Wassails, Wakes, Of Bride-grooms, Brides, and of their Bridall-cakes. I write of Youth, of Love, and have Accesse By these, to sing of cleanly-Wantonnesse. I sing of Dewes, of Raines, and piece by piece Of Balme, of Oyle, of Spice and Amber-Greece. I sing of Times trans-shifting; and I write How Roses first came Red, and Lillies White. I write of Groves, of Twilights, and I sing The Court of Mab, and of the Fairie-King. I write of Hell; I sing (and ever shall) Of Heaven, and hope to have it after all. '

Poems On May Morning

Song: On May Morning, John Milton Now the bright morning star, day's harbinger, Comes dancing from the east, and leads with her The flowery May, who from her green lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale primrose. Hail bounteous May that dost inspire Mirth and youth and warm desire! Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.'

from The Song of Solomon, The King James Bible (1611) ' My beloved spake, and said unto me, Rise up, my Love, my fair one, and come away. For lo, the winter is past, the rain is over, and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of the singing of birds is come, and the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. The fig tree putteth forth her green figs, and the vines with the tender grape give a good smell. Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away. '

Sumer is icumen in, Anon 'Sumer is icumen in, Loud sing cuckoo! Groweth seed and bloweth mead And springeth the wood now. Sing cuckoo! Ewe bleateth after lamb, Cow loweth after calf, Bullock starteth, buck soundeth, Merry sing cuckoo! Cuckoo, cuckoo, well singest thou cuckoo, Nor cease thou never now! Sing cuckoo now, sing cuckoo! Sing cuckoo, sing cuckoo now! '

Cuckoo, Fujiwara no Toshinari ‘Has it flown away, The cuckoo that called Waking me at midnight?’

Small Brown Job, Gwyneth Lewis ‘May you be led on all your walks By an unidentified bird Flitting ahead, at least one branch, The tease, between you And it. Is that an eyeStripe? Epaulette? Your desire For a name grows stronger.’

Swallows, Owen Sheers 'The Swallows are italic again, cutting their sky-jive between the telephone wires, flying in crossed lines.'

In the Heart of Hackney, for Aidan Andrew Dun by Sebastian Barker Poems on the Underground 2007 poster ' Behold, a swan. Ten houseboats on the Lee. A cyclist on the towpath. Gentle rain. A pigeon in a white apple - blossoming tree. And through the Marsh the rumble of a train. Two courting geese waddle on the bank Croaking. A man unties his boat. Police cars howl and whoop. And vast and blank The rain cloud of the sky is trampled underfoot. Behold, a dove. And in Bomb Crater Pond Fat frogs ignore the rain. Each trembling rush signals like a wand Earthing the magic of London once again. In the heart of Hackney, five miles from Kentish Town, By Lammas Lands the reed beds are glowing rich and brown '.Sebastian Barker Reprinted by permission of Enitharmon Press from Damnatio Memoriae: Erased from Memory (2004)

Coltsfoot and Larches by David Constantine (b. 1944) ' I love coltsfoot that they Make their appearance into life among dead grass: Larches, that they Die colourfully among sombre immortals.' Poems on the Underground Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe from Collected Poems (2004) © David Constantine

Poems for May Day

Cuts, Sam Riviere ' I can see that things have gotten pretty bad our way of life threatened by financiers assortments of phoneys and opportunists and very soon the things we cherish most will likely be taken from us the wine from our cellars our silk gowns and opium but tell me what do you expect Chung Ling Soo much ridiculed conjurer of the court and last of the dynasty of brooms to do about it?'

A Song Laetitia Pilkington 'Lying is an occupation, Used by all who mean to rise; Politicians owe their station, But to well concerted lies. These to lovers give assistance, To ensnare the fair-one's heart; And the virgin's best resistance Yields to this commanding art. Study this superior science, Would you rise in Church or State; Bid to Truth a bold defiance, 'Tis the practice of the great.'

The Leader, Roger McGough Poems on the Underground 1995 Poster 'I wanna be the leader I wanna be the leader Can I be the leader? Can I? I can? Promise? Promise? Yippee. I'm the leader I'm the leader OK what shall we do?'

Aunt Jennifer’s Tigers, Adrienne Rich ' Aunt Jennifer's tigers prance across a screen, Bright topaz denizens of a world of green. They do not fear the men beneath the tree; They pace in sleek chivalric certainty. Aunt Jennifer's finger fluttering through her wool Find even the ivory needle hard to pull. The massive weight of Uncle's wedding band Sits heavily upon Aunt Jennifer's hand. When Aunt is dead, her terrified hands will lie Still ringed with ordeals she was mastered by. The tigers in the panel that she made Will go on prancing, proud and unafraid.'

La forza d'un bel viso a che mi sprona?, Michelangelo, ' Beauty is impelled to find a face To dwell in: there, delight is such that I Seek nothing more; I would scour the sky To share with the elect this living grace. The works of their Creator bear his sign, So if my soul burns fiercely with love Of all fair shapes, then judgement from above Must hold me guiltless: beauty is divine. '

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.'

Happiness, Stephen Dunn ' A state you must dare not enter with hopes of staying, quicksand in the marshes, and all the roads leading to a castle that doesn't exist. But there it is, as promised, with its perfect bridge above the crocodiles, and its doors forever open.'

Birds and Beasts, Stars and Planets

The Tyger, William Blake 'Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry? In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the fire of thine eyes! On what wings dare he aspire? What the hand, dare seize the fire? And what shoulder, & what art, Could twist the sinews of thy heart? And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand? & what dread feet? What the hammer? what the chain, In what furnace was thy brain? What the anvil? what dread grasp, Dare its deadly terrors clasp? When the stars threw down their spears And water'd heaven with their tears: Did he smile his work to see? Did he who made the Lamb make thee? Tyger Tyger burning bright, In the forests of the night: What immortal hand or eye, Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?'

The Tyger by William Blake read by James Berry

The Twa Corbies , Anon 'As I was walking all alane, I heard twa corbies making a mane; The tane unto the tither say, ‘Whar sall we gang and dine the day?’ ‘In behint yon auld fail dyke, I wot there lies a new-slain knight; And naebody kens that he lies there, But his hawk, his hound, and his lady fair. ‘His hound is to the hunting gane, His hawk, to fetch the wild-fowl hame, His lady’s ta’en another mate, So we may mak our dinner sweet. ‘Ye’ll sit on his white hause-bane, And I’ll pike out his bonny blue een: Wi’ ae lock o’ his gowden hair We’ll theek our nest when it grows bare. ‘Mony a one for him maks mane, But nane sall ken whar he is gane; O’er his white banes, when they are bare, The wind sall blaw for evermair.’

The Twa Corbies Anon read by Gerard Benson

The Silver Swan, Anon ( c. 1600) Poems on the Underground 1992 'The silver swan, who living had no note, When death approached unlocked her silent throat, Leaning her breast against the reedy shore, Thus sung her first and last ,and sung no more: Farewell all joys, O death come close mine eyes, More goose than swans now live, more fools than wise'

The Silver Swan Anon read by Christopher Logue

I have a gentil cock (anon), Poems on the Underground 1,000 years of poetry in English 'I have a gentil cock croweth me day he doth me risen early my matins for to say I have a gentil cock comen he is of great his comb is of red coral his tail is of jet'I have a gentil cock comen he is of kind his comb is of red sorrel his tail is of inde his legs be of azure so gentil and so small his spurs are of silver white into the wortewale his eyes are of crystal locked all in amber and every night he percheth him in my lady`s chamber'

I have a gentil cock Anon read by Gerard Benson

Old English Riddle, Anon, Tr. Gerard Benson 'A moth, I thought, munching a word. How marvellously weird! a worm Digesting a man's sayings - A sneakthief nibbling in the shadows At the shape of a poet`s thunderous phrases - How unutterably strange! And the pilfering parasite none the wiser For the words he has swallowed.'

Old English Riddle from The Exeter book read by Gerard Benson

The Lobster Quadrille, Lewis Carroll ' 'Will you walk a little faster?' said a whiting to a snail, 'There's a porpoise close behind us, And he's treading on my tail. See how eagerly the lobsters and the turtles all advance! They are waiting on the shingle - will you come and join the dance? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance? 'You can really have notion how delightful it will be When they take us up and throw us, with the lobsters, out to sea!' But the snail replied, 'Too far, too far!' and gave a look askance- Said he thanked the whiting kindly, but he would not join the dance. Would not, could not, would not, could not, would not join the dance. Would not, could not, would not, could not, could not join the dance. 'What matters it how far we go?' his scaly friend replied. 'There is another shore, you know, upon the other side. The further off from England the nearer is to France - Then turn not pale, beloved snail, but come and join the dance. Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, will you join the dance? Will you, won't you, will you, won't you, won't you join the dance?'

The Lobster Quadrille by Lewis Carroll read by Gavin Ewart

The Loch Ness Monster's Song, Edwin Morgan 'Sssnnnwhuffffll? Hnwhuffl hhnnwfl hnflhfl? Gdroblboblhobngbl gbl gl g g g g glbgl'

The Loch Ness Monster’s Song by Edwin Morgan read by Gerard Benson

Stars & Planets by Norman MacCaig read by Roger McGough

Full Moon & Little Frieda by Ted Hughes 'A cool small evening shrunk to a dog bark and the clank of a bucket - And you listening. A spider's web, tense for the dew's touch. A pail lifted, still and brimming - mirror To tempt a first star to a tremor. Cows are going home in the lane there, looping the hedges with their warm wreaths of breath - A dark river of blood, many boulders, Balancing unspilled milk. 'Moon!' you cry suddenly, 'Moon! Moon!' The moon has stepped back like an artist gazing amazed at a work That points at him amazed.'

Full Moon & Little Frieda by Ted Hughes read by Adrian Mitchell

Delay, Elizabeth Jennings, 1988 Poems on the Underground poster ‘The radiance of the star that leans on me Was shining years ago. The light that now Glitters up there my eyes may never see, And so the time lag teases me with how Love that loves now may not reach me until Its first desire is spent. The star's impulse Must wait for eyes to claim it beautiful And love arrived may find us somewhere else.'

Delay by Elizabeth Jennings read by Roger McGough

Poems from April 2025