The Edgware Road, North from the Marble Arch

Constant traffic streaming northward,

Flinging choking fumes and noise,

Filling reluctant lungs, deafening reluctant ears

Down the road from the Marble Arch.

Maida Vale with its favoured ones

Is linked with Kilburn High Road,

Drab, yet with its myriad amalgam

Life-stirring, soul stirring, incipient glamour.

Cricklewood, Hendon, Colindale, Burnt Oak,

Factories,railways, pubs, flyovers,

Rush and roar,shop and school,

Nearby churches spiring heavenward.

Onto Edgware with its ravaged beauty

Passing the way to Handel's organ,

Passing along Dick Turpin's highway,

Passing the gate to the Chandos dream.

It's nigh two thousand years since Roman might

Forged this straight way north;

Now engines roar where legions marched,

And that long dead empire is veiled by time.