Quotes by John Betjeman

John Betjeman

A whispering and watery Norfolk sound Telling of all the moonlit reeds around.

Reeds

Sound

Whispering

And behind their frail partitions Business women lie and soak, Seeing through the draughty skylight Flying clouds and railway smoke. Rest you there, poor unbelov’d ones, Lap your loneliness in heat, All too soon the tiny breakfast, Trolley-bus and windy street!

Clouds

Loneliness

Lying

And I think it was the outline of that church tower at Belaugh against the sky which gave me a passion for churches so that every church I’ve past since I’ve wanted to stop and look in.

Passion

Past

Thinking

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

Clouds

Flower

Silver Bells

And now, dear Lord, I cannot wait Because I have a luncheon date.

Dear Lord

Food

Waiting

Approval of what is approved of Is as false as a well-kept vow.

Approval

Belief

Vow

Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows.

Children

Dark

Sight

Gracious Lord, oh bomb the Germans. Spare their women for Thy Sake, And if that is not too easy, We will pardon Thy Mistake. But, gracious Lord, whate’er shall be, Don’t let anyone bomb me.

Bombs

Mistake

Sake

History must not be written with bias, and both sides must be given, even if there is only one side.

Given

History

Sides

Hymn tunes are the nearest we’ve got to English folk music.

Folks

Hymns

Tunes

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Air

Approval

Belief

Bombs

Cages

Children

Church

Clouds

Country

Crowns

Dark

Dear Lord

Deathbed

Delight

Eye

Fear Of Death

Fields

Flower

Folks

Food

Games

Garden

Girl

Given

Giving

Granted

Happiness

History

Home

Horse

House

Hymns

Ifs

Interest

Jewels

Laughter

Loneliness

Lord

Luxury

Lying

Majesty

Mark

Men

Mind

Missing

Mistake

Naughty

Norfolk

Oil

Passion

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Quotes by John Betjeman

John Betjeman

A whispering and watery Norfolk sound Telling of all the moonlit reeds around.

And behind their frail partitions Business women lie and soak, Seeing through the draughty skylight Flying clouds and railway smoke. Rest you there, poor unbelov’d ones, Lap your loneliness in heat, All too soon the tiny breakfast, Trolley-bus and windy street!

And I think it was the outline of that church tower at Belaugh against the sky which gave me a passion for churches so that every church I’ve past since I’ve wanted to stop and look in.

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

And now, dear Lord, I cannot wait Because I have a luncheon date.

Approval of what is approved of Is as false as a well-kept vow.

Childhood is measured out by sounds and smells and sights, before the dark hour of reason grows.

Gracious Lord, oh bomb the Germans. Spare their women for Thy Sake, And if that is not too easy, We will pardon Thy Mistake. But, gracious Lord, whate’er shall be, Don’t let anyone bomb me.

History must not be written with bias, and both sides must be given, even if there is only one side.

Hymn tunes are the nearest we’ve got to English folk music.

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