And London shops on Christmas Eve Are strung with silver bells and flowers As hurrying clerks the City leave To pigeon-haunted classic towers, And marbled clouds go scudding by The many-steepled London sky — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
It's strange that those we miss the most Are those we take for granted. — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
I ought to warn you that my verse is of no interest to people who can think. — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
What the Londoner sees in his mind’s eye is that cluster of towers and pinnacles seen from Pentonville Hill and outlined against a foggy… — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
People's backyards are much more interesting than their front gardens, and houses that back on to railways are public benefactors. — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
Oh! full Surrey twilight! importunate band! Oh! strongly adorable tennis-girl's hand! — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
“Come friendly bombs and fall on Slough! It isn't fit for humans now, There isn't grass to graze a cow. Swarm over, Death!” — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
A whispering and watery Norfolk sound Telling of all the moonlit reeds around. — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
Oh Wasn't it naughty of Smudges? Oh, Mummy, I'm sick with disgust. She threww me in front of the judges, And my silly old… — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
And behind their frail partitions Business women lie and soak, Seeing through the draughty skylight Flying clouds and railway smoke. Rest you there, poor… — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
I have a Vision of the Future, chum. The workers flats in fields of soya beans tower up like silver pencils, score on score. — John Betjeman Copy Share Image
