John Betjeman.  In Westminster Abbey.

John Betjeman. In Westminster Abbey.

Author: Poetry from the Jungle from The Ceylon Press January 19, 2025 Duration: 2:26

Let me take this other glove off
As the vox humana swells,
And the beauteous fields of Eden
Bask beneath the Abbey bells.
Here, where England's statesmen lie,
Listen to a lady's cry.

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.

Keep our Empire undismembered
Guide our Forces by Thy Hand,
Gallant blacks from far Jamaica,
Honduras and Togoland;
Protect them Lord in all their fights,
And, even more, protect the whites.

Think of what our Nation stands for,
Books from Boots' and country lanes,
Free speech, free passes, class distinction,
Democracy and proper drains.
Lord, put beneath Thy special care
One-eighty-nine Cadogan Square.

Although dear Lord I am a sinner,
I have done no major crime;
Now I'll come to Evening Service
Whensoever I have the time.
So, Lord, reserve for me a crown,
And do not let my shares go down.

I will labour for Thy Kingdom,
Help our lads to win the war,
Send white feathers to the cowards
Join the Women's Army Corps,
Then wash the steps around Thy Throne
In the Eternal Safety Zone.

Now I feel a little better,
What a treat to hear Thy Word,
Where the bones of leading statesmen
Have so often been interr'd.
And now, dear Lord, I cannot wait
Because I have a luncheon date.

I will labour for Thy Kingdom,
Help our lads to win the war,
Send white feathers to the cowards
Join the Women's Army Corps,
Then wash the steps around Thy Throne
In the Eternal Safety Zone.

Now I feel a little better,
What a treat to hear Thy Word,
Where the bones of leading statesmen
Have so often been interr'd.
And now, dear Lord, I cannot wait
Because I have a luncheon date.


There's a particular magic in the poem that almost made it, the one that lingers just outside the canonical spotlight. 101 Exiles from The Ceylon Press is a quiet space dedicated to those verses. Each episode of this Poetry from the Jungle podcast is a curated listening experience, focusing on a single, remarkable work by an acclaimed poet that, for whatever reason, never quite cracked the ubiquitous "top 100" lists. You won't find grand introductions or academic dissections here. Instead, the focus is on the language itself-the rhythm, the imagery, the quiet turn of phrase that deserves a moment of undivided attention. It's for anyone who believes the most resonant lines are sometimes found in the margins, offering a different kind of discovery in the world of verse. This podcast provides a sanctuary for those exiled poems, letting them speak for themselves directly to the listener.
Author: Language: English Episodes: 32

101 Exiles
Podcast Episodes
Philip Larkin.  Talking In Bed. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:30
Talking in bed ought to be easiest,Lying together there goes back so far,An emblem of two people being honest.Yet more and more time passes silently.Outside, the wind's incomplete unrestBuilds and disperses clouds in the…
John Betjeman.  Upper Lambourne. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:51
Up the ash tree climbs the ivy,Up the ivy climbs the sun,With a twenty-thousand pattering,Has a valley breeze begun,Feathery ash, neglected elder,Shift the shade and make it run -Shift the shade toward the nettles,And th…
Philip Larkin.  An Arundel Tomb. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 2:49
Side by side, their faces blurred, The earl and countess lie in stone, Their proper habits vaguely shown As jointed armour, stiffened pleat, And that faint hint of the absurd— The little dogs under their feet.Such plainn…
C. P. Cavafy.  The God Abandons Antony. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:44
When suddenly, at midnight, you hearan invisible procession going bywith exquisite music, voices,don’t mourn your luck that’s failing now,work gone wrong, your plansall proving deceptive—don’t mourn them uselessly.As one…
Philip Larkin.  The North Ship. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:54
I saw three ships go sailing by,Over the sea, the lifting sea,And the wind rose in the morning sky,And one was rigged for a long journey.The first ship turned towards the west,Over the sea, the running sea,And by the win…
John Betjeman.  Late Flowering Lust. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:56
My head is bald, my breath is bad, Unshaven is my chin,I have not now the joys I had When I was young in sin.I run my fingers down your dress With brandy-certain aimAnd you respond to my caress And maybe feel the same.Bu…
C. P. Cavafy.   Days Of 1903. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:08
I never found them again—all lost so quickly...the poetic eyes, the pale face...in the darkening street... I never found them again—mine entirely by chance,and so easily given up,then longed for so painfully.The poetic e…
Philip Larkin.  To The Sea. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 2:55
To step over the low wall that dividesRoad from concrete walk above the shoreBrings sharply back something known long before –The miniature gaiety of seasides.Everything crowds under the low horizon:Steep beach, blue wat…
C. P. Cavafy.     Remember, Body. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 1:15
Body, remember not only how much you were loved, not only the beds on which you lay, but also those desires which for you plainly glowed in the eyes, and trembled in the voice -- and some chance obstacle made them futile…