Poems on the Underground

Poetry on the Underground book

Poems on the Underground was launched in 1986, following an idea from the American writer Judith Chernaik, to bring poetry to a wider audience.

The programme helps to make journeys more stimulating and inspiring by showcasing a range of poetry in Tube train carriages across London. The poems are selected by Judith Chernaik and poets George Szirtes and Imtiaz Dharker.

Poems on the Underground highlights classical, contemporary and international work, by both famous and relatively unknown poets. Its success has inspired similar schemes in cities around the world, from New York to Shanghai.

The scheme is supported by TfL, Arts Council England and The British Council.

Poems on the Underground (Penguin, 2015) contains over 200 poems featured on the Tube and is available from the London Transport Museum shop and all good bookshops.

The first series of poems for 2025 is now on trains.

Judith Chernaik, Founder of Poems on the Underground, says, "These poems are strongly international, with recent work by the dissident Chinese poet Bei Dao, the Indian poet Sujata Bhatt and the Chinese-American poet Li-Young Lee. The poems share common themes as they celebrate life and love, freedom and hope, as spring returns."

As well as Dao, Bhatt and Lee, the poets include Scottish poet Niall Campbell, who writes about the love of a young father, Foyle's Young Poet Lewis Corry, and the poet and English religious scholar George Herbert.

The poems are:

  • Bei Dao, 'Sidetracks' translated by Jeffrey Yang

  • George Herbert, 'Love'

  • Li-Young Lee, 'One Love'

  • Niall Campbell, 'February Morning'

  • Sujata Bhatt, 'Ther is No Rose of Swych Virtu'

  • Lewis Corry, '2013, and Daedalus never moved away for worke'

Ther is no rose of swych virtu…

by Sujata Bhatt

An old gardener plants a rosary
of garlic around the rosebushes.
And the sun on the high windows
makes the song softer,
softer - a hum in his ears;

ther is no rose of swych virtu . . .

while the odours from the dug up earth
cling to the air - and the wind
leaces no boundaries between the scent
of roses and the scent of garlic