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".
Sir John Betjeman
Другие работы автора
Westgate-On-Sea
Hark, I hear the bells of Westgate, I will tell you what they sigh, Where those minarets and
Summoned by Bells excerpt
Walking from school is a consummate art: Which route to follow to avoid the gangs, Which paths to find that lead, circuitous, To leafy squirrel haunts and plopping ponds,
Diary Of A Church Mouse
Here among long-discarded cassocks, Damp stools, and half-split open hassocks, Here where the vicar never looksI nibble through old service books Lean and alone I spend my
Seaside Golf
How straight it flew, how long it flew, It clear'd the rutty And soaring, disappeared from Beyond the bunker's back -A glorious, sailing, bounding
