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Devonshire Street W1

The heavy mahogany door with its wrought-iron screen   Shuts.

And the sound is rich, sympathetic, discreet.

The sun still shines on this eighteenth-century scene   With Edwardian faience adornment — Devonshire Street.

No hope.

And the X-ray photographs under his arm   Confirm the message.

His wife stands timidly by.

The opposite brick-built house looks lofty and calm   Its chimneys steady against the mackerel sky.

No hope.

And the iron knob of this palisade   So cold to the touch, is luckier now than he "Oh merciless, hurrying Londoners!

Why was I made   For the long and painful deathbed coming to me?" She puts her fingers in his, as, loving and silly   At long-past Kensington dances she used to do "It's cheaper to take the tube to Piccadilly   And then we can catch a nineteen or twenty-two".

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Sir John Betjeman

Sir John Betjeman CBE (/ˈbɛtʃəmən/; 28 August 1906 – 19 May 1984) was an English poet, writer, and broadcaster. He was Poet Laureate from 1972 u…
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