
A speaker rides a London motor-'bus at evening, tracing its route from Ludgate Circus, where fleets of 'buses gather beneath the bridge pointing toward the Strand, ready to scatter toward every quarter of the city — east and west, north and south, to the Elephant and Castle, Gospel Oak, Parson's Green, Chelsea, Putney, Barnes, and Sheen. The poem surveys the other 'buses' routes: some cross the river to watch steamers crawl toward the Pool or London Wall, rumbling past dingy houses; some plunge north to Kensal Rise and Hampstead's smokeless skies; others run east to Hackney and the long Commercial Road, past commerce and poverty. The speaker's own 'bus goes westward, leaving Charing Cross, bounding up Piccadilly through dusty wind as the first lamps light and, across St James's Park, the early lights of Westminster splash on the darkening sky. Dusk falls gently while London's glare climbs to color the sad skies, and the speaker hums onward through mingled dusk and dazzle, wind bringing the evening's first dampness. It is a summer evening, with early stars appearing above the smoke and the western afterglow dying out; the wind seems to sing of the river beyond the city and its pleasant westward reaches unknown to any cargo ship. The 'bus spins through Brompton, past Kensington, thunders down to Fulham past tall blind churches, and arrives at last at Putney, where the starlit river gleams away up toward Richmond, described as a thoroughfare of dreams. There, the speaker's beloved waits, straining her eyes through the dark to see the approaching 'bus. The working day is over, its dust and hurry past, and the two go down to the river together, hand in hand. The motor-'bus rolls on, and the couple pause to watch it tear away through the twilight, mysterious and fair — it has served as their love's bright chariot, the torch of their desires, kindling the London darkness with youthful fire. The poem closes on an apostrophe to youth in London, asking whether those young, eager footsteps on hot, hard pavements will ever be forgotten. Amid dust in the breezes and the stink of petrol staining the air, the poem affirms that youth has come to London and found a garden there.
By Sheila Kaye-Smith · Genre: Poetry, Ballad, Romance · 789 words
You get in at Ludgate Circus, / Where in regiments they stand, / All throbbing underneath the bridge, / And pointing to the Strand -- / All pageantry with colours, / All poetry with words, / Wait those blazoned motor-'buses / In their fiercely panting herds.
There are 'buses for the East, / There are 'buses for the West, / For North and South and Central / And where heaven pleases best -- / For the Elephant and Castle, / Gospel Oak and Parson's Green, / Some for Chelsea, some for Putney, / Some for Barnes, and some for Sheen.
rural-england · modernization-theme · social-change · village-community · tradition-vs-progress · sussex-setting · transportation-impact · early-twentieth-century · countryside-fiction · social-commentary · character-driven-narrative · class-dynamics
The Ballad of a Motor 'Bus is listed on Textopian as a poem by Sheila Kaye-Smith, dated Date unknown.
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