Middlesex

Gaily into Ruislip

Runs the red electric train,

With a thousand Ta's and

Daintily alights Elaine;

Hurries down the concrete

With a frown of concentration,

Out into the outskirt's

Where a few surviving

Keep alive our lost Elysium - rural Middlesex again.

Well cut Windsmoor flapping lightly,

Jacqmar scarf of mauve and

Hiding hair which,

Friday nightly,

Delicately drowns in Dreen;

Fair Elaine the bobby-soxer,

Fresh-complexioned with Innoxa,

Gains the garden - father's hobby -Hangs her Windsmoor in the lobby,

Settles down to sandwich supper and the television screen.

Gentle Brent,

I used to know

Wandering Wembley-wards at will,

Now what change your waters show

In the meadowlands you fill!

Recollect the elm-trees

And the footpaths climbing

Under cedar-shaded palings,

Low laburnum-leaned-on

Out of Northolt on and upward to the heights of Harrow hill.

Parish of enormous

Perivale stood all alone,

And from Greenford scent of

Most enticingly was

Over market gardens tidy,

Taverns for the bona fide,

Cockney singers, cockney shooters,

Murray Poshes,

Lupin Pooters,

Long in Kelsal Green and Highgate silent under soot and stone.