Answering Cries of Longing for Poetry's Return to the Subway Goodness only knows what was rattling around F. Scott Fitzgerald's brain when he said there were no second acts in American lives. As often as that line is quoted, that's about how often it has been proved wrong. Now, the flaw in Fitzgerald's train of thought is being demonstrated yet again. Poetry in Motion, the underground dabble in verse that made a subway ride to work more bearable, is getting a second act. The return of the program, discarded in 2008 and sorely missed by many, is being announced on Tuesday by the Metropolitan Transportation Authority. In this incarnation, the selected poem will be accompanied by a work of art - the two parts "meant to be in dialogue," as Sandra Bloodworth, a transportation authority official, put it. Begun in the early 1990s, Poetry in Motion had a 15-year run before it yielded in 2008 to Train of Thought, a series that favored prose, with quotations from assorted writers. In short order, though, Train of Thought was also derailed, giving way to less-than-soulful placards announcing subway improvements. "We heard loud and clear that Poetry in Motion was missed, and it would be great to have it back," said Ms. Bloodworth, who is director of the authority's Arts for Transit and Urban Design program. Similar cries were heard at the Poetry Society of America, which is resuming its role as the selector of verses for possible posting. How much did some New Yorkers like the program? Here's a reminiscence from Alice Quinn, the society's executive director. It involves one of the last poems in the old series, "Wilderness," by Lorine Niedecker, who died in 1970. I watched a woman memorize that poem on the No. 1 line, from 14th Street to 96th Street," Ms. Quinn said. It was so touching. She kept reading it over and over. In those days, the selections were printed on placards that ran horizontally along overhead advertising spaces in subway cars and on buses. The new poem-plus-art format will appear in advertising squares that are at riders" eye level when they are seated. The plan is to have two offerings per quarter, or eight a year, in roughly 25 percent of the subway fleet (no buses this time). Selections will also appear on the "On the Go" computer kiosks that the authority has installed in a few subway stations. And poems will be printed on the backs of three million MetroCards, or 11 percent of the total typically sold each quarter. First up is a poem called "Graduation," by Dorothea Tanning, who died in January at age 101. Talk about your second acts! Ms. Tanning was a leading Surrealist painter for most of her life. Then, in her 80s, she turned to writing. Her works included two collections of poetry, the second of which was published last fall after she'd reached her 100s. "Graduation" is only four lines long: He told us, with the years, you will come to love the world. And we sat there with our souls in our laps, and comforted them. Accompanying the poem will be an image from glass artwork created by Joan Linder and called "The Flora of Bensonhurst," which is being installed on the 71st Street station of the D line. "It's not meant to support the poem," Ms. Bloodworth said of the art. It's meant to have a dialogue with the poem. So the artwork exists in its own right. Sometimes, they may have a very close relationship. Sometimes, it may be more abstract. More prosaically, there is a question of money. The authority says the advertising space and printing costs are taken care of in the budget for its own promotional messages. "It's not costing us new expenses," Ms. Bloodworth said, but she added that, without doubt, "we would love to have sponsorship." What sort of a poem qualifies? "It can't be too long," Ms. Quinn said. I feel it should be a poem that one can read infinitely with pleasure and reward. It should be a poem that people would want to memorize, to carry around within them. The revival of Poetry in Motion shows that Fitzgerald isn't the only one who got it wrong. So did Thomas Wolfe. It seems you can go home again, after all.