New Poems on the Underground February 2025

Love LOVE bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back, Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack From my first entrance in, Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning If I lack’d anything. ‘A guest,’ I answer’d, ‘worthy to be here:’ Love said, ‘You shall be he.’ ‘I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear, I cannot look on Thee.’ Love took my hand and smiling did reply, ‘Who made the eyes but I?’ ‘Truth, Lord; but I have marr’d them: let my shame Go where it doth deserve.’ ‘And know you not,’ says Love, ‘Who bore the blame?’ ‘My dear, then I will serve.’ ‘You must sit down,’ says Love, ‘and taste my meat.’ So I did sit and eat. George Herbert

‘O Wind, If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?’

On 24th February, the latest series of Poems on the Underground will be launched on London Underground and Overground trains. The poems are a strongly international set, with poems by the dissident Chinese poet Bei Dao, the Indian poet Sujata Bhatt, and the Chinese-American poet Li-Young Lee. Also featured are the Scottish poet Niall Campbell and the Foyle Young Poet Lewis Corry, alongside the great 17th century religious poet George Herbert. The poems share common themes as they celebrate new life and the renewal of nature as spring returns.

The poems:

from Sidetracks by Bei Dao, translated by Jeffrey Yang. Reprinted by permission of Carcanet from Sidetracks (2024) Text copyright © Zhao Zhenkai 2024  Translation copyright © Jeffrey Yang 2024

One Heart by Li-Young Lee from Book of My Nights. Copyright © 2001 by Li-Young Lee. Reprinted with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of BOA Editions, Ltd.  boaeditions.org

Love by George Herbert

February Morning by Niall Campbell  Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from Noctuary (2019)

Ther is No Rose of Swych Virtu by Sujata Bhatt Reprinted by permission of Carcanet from Collected Poems (2013)

2013, and Daedalus never moved away for work by Lewis Corry, Foyle Young Poets

from Sidetracks by Bei Dao, translated by Jeffrey Yang

from Sidetracks I am you a stranger on the sidetracks waiting for the season to harvest blades of light sending letters though tomorrow has no address Bei Dao translated by Jeffrey Yang Reprinted by permission of Carcanet from Sidetracks (2024) Text copyright © Zhao Zhenkai 2024 Translation copyright © Jeffrey Yang 2024

One Heart by Li-Young Lee

One Heart Look at the birds. Even flying is born out of nothing. The first sky is inside you, open at either end of day. The work of wings was always freedom, fastening one heart to every falling thing. Li-Young Lee from Book of My Nights. Copyright © 2001 by Li-Young Lee. Reprinted with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of BOA Editions, Ltd. boaeditions.org

Love by George Herbert

Love LOVE bade me welcome; yet my soul drew back, Guilty of dust and sin. But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack From my first entrance in, Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning If I lack’d anything. ‘A guest,’ I answer’d, ‘worthy to be here:’ Love said, ‘You shall be he.’ ‘I, the unkind, ungrateful? Ah, my dear, I cannot look on Thee.’ Love took my hand and smiling did reply, ‘Who made the eyes but I?’ ‘Truth, Lord; but I have marr’d them: let my shame Go where it doth deserve.’ ‘And know you not,’ says Love, ‘Who bore the blame?’ ‘My dear, then I will serve.’ ‘You must sit down,’ says Love, ‘and taste my meat.’ So I did sit and eat. George Herbert

February Morning by Niall Campbell 

February Morning The winter light was still to hit the window, and all my other selves were still asleep, when, standing with this child in all our bareness, I found that I was a ruined bridge, or one that stood so long half-built and incomplete; at other times I’d been a swinging gate, a freed skiff – then his head dropped in the groove of my neck, true as a keystone, and I fixed: all stone and good use, two shores with one crossing. The morning broke, I kissed his head, and stood. Niall Campbell Reprinted by permission of Bloodaxe Books from Noctuary (2019)

Ther is No Rose of Swych Virtu by Sujata Bhatt

Ther is No Rose of Swych Virtu Ther is no rose of swych virtu as is the rose that bar Jhesu -- 15th century, anon. An old gardener plants a rosary of garlic around the rosebushes. And the sun on the high windows makes the song softer, softer – a hum in his ears: ther is no rose of swych virtu . . . while the odours from the dug up earth cling to the air – and the wind leaves no boundaries between the scent of roses and the scent of garlic. Sujata Bhatt Reprinted by permission of Carcanet from Collected Poems (2013)

Ther is No Rose of Swych Virtu read by Marjorie Lotfi

2013, and Daedalus never moved away for work by Lewis Corry

2013, and Daedalus never moved away for work bike-strung boy sun-licked spark of rubber and steel you soar down the driveway arms spread like wings it is a wonderful thing to fly and there is no greater occasion than being alive Lewis Corry Young Poets on the Underground