London Poems
Mandalay
by Rudyard Kipling
By the old Moulmein Pagoda, lookin' eastward to the sea,
There's a Burma girl a-settin', and I know she thinks o' me;
For the wind is in the palm-trees, and the temple-bells they say:
"Come you back, you British soldier; come you back to Mandalay!"
Come you back to Mandalay,
Where the old Flotilla lay:
Can't you 'ear their paddles chunkin' from Rangoon to Mandalay?
On the road to Mandalay,
Where the flyin'-fishes play,
An' the dawn comes up like thunder outer China 'crost the Bay!
......
The Song Of The Banjo
by Rudyard Kipling
You couldn't pack a Broadwood half a mile --
You mustn't leave a fiddle in the damp --
You couldn't raft an organ up the Nile,
And play it in an Equatorial swamp.
~I~ travel with the cooking-pots and pails --
~I'm~ sandwiched 'tween the coffee and the pork --
And when the dusty column checks and tails,
You should hear me spur the rear-guard to a walk!
With my "~Pilly-willy-winky-winky popp!~"
......
Verses Wrote On Her Death-Bed At Bath, To Her Husband In London
by Mary Monck
Thou, who dost all my worldly thoughts employ,
Thou pleasing source of all my earthly joy:
Thou tend'rest husband, and thou best of friends,
To thee this first, this last adieu I send.
At length the conqu'ror death asserts his right,
And will for ever veil me from thy sight.
He wooes me to him with a chearful grace;
And not one terror clouds his meagre face.
He promises a lasting rest from pain;
And shews that all life's fleeting joys are vain.
......
A March Day In London
by Amy Levy
The east wind blows in the street to-day;
The sky is blue, yet the town looks grey.
'Tis the wind of ice, the wind of fire,
Of cold despair and of hot desire,
Which chills the flesh to aches and pains,
And sends a fever through all the veins.
From end to end, with aimless feet,
All day long have I paced the street.
My limbs are weary, but in my breast
......
London, 1802
by William Wordsworth
Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour;
England hath need of thee: she is a fen
Of stagnant waters: altar, sword, and pen,
Fireside, the heroic wealth of hall and bower,
Have forfeited their ancient English dower
Of inward happiness. We are selfish men;
Oh! raise us up, return to us again;
And give us manners, virtue, freedom, power.
Thy soul was like a Star, and dwelt apart;
Thou hadst a voice whose sound was like the sea:
......
Space in Mayfair
by Steven Andreev
There is a space in Mayfair,
Not far from Hanover Square,
Where we walk when the sun darkens,
That’s called Mount Street Gardens,
Where paths lead us often
To find a new affair.
First time we cycled off Trafalgar Square,
Shooting past streets on a bike by funfair,
It was early spring and the leaves were green,
......
Spring Trip to London
by Steven Andreev
The weary winter passed to leave us with nothing but
Estrangement from each other. As I sat in my damp student dorm,
Writing essay on Alienation, alternating between shots of
Tea, vodka and gin, brooding about the last time I saw you alone.
Nothing interrupted my concentrated efforts, besides the sound of
Keyboard under my fingers, until a bird chirped by my window
And awoke me to notice the first carnations of season. I rushed
To my bedroom, grabbed a tweed jacket and ran to train station.
......
Contemplation
by Steven Andreev
This is a day of contemplation
When autumn finally falls down on the capital
After months of desert-style heat, that burnt us more inside than out.
In the dust of general stagnation
One counts all the capital, another the lack of it
While I sit in indignation, staring at the building blocking the view of the park.
And remember the days when a park was not a tiny square,
But was Richmond Park that opened up by her and me.
......
Time Travel (Got a Hook in Me)
by Carl Halling
Time travel, baby,
Set me free,
Time travel got a hook in me,
Time travel, baby,
Set me free,
Time travel got a hook in me,
In disguise as a young man in the city,
But the bright young life
No longer belongs to me,
......
The Wicked Cahoots of Bedford Park
by Carl Halling
When he made
his first personal appearance
in the dirty alley
on someone else’s rusty bike,
screaming along
in a cloud of dust,
it rendered us all
speechless and motionless.
But I was amazed
that despite his grey-faced surliness,
......
