Philip Larkin.  The North Ship.

Philip Larkin. The North Ship.

Author: Poetry from the Jungle from The Ceylon Press January 18, 2025 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 wind was all possessed
And carried to a rich country.

The second ship turned towards the east,
Over the sea, the quaking sea,
And the wind hunted it like a beast
To anchor in captivity.

The third ship drove towards the north,
Over the sea, the darkening sea,
But no breath of wind came forth,
And the decks shone frostily.

The northern sky rose high and black
Over the proud unfruitful sea,
East and west the ships came back
Happily or unhappily:

But the third went wide and far
Into an unforgiving sea
Under a fire-spilling star,
And it was rigged for a long journey.


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.  Mr Bleaney. [not-audio_url] [/not-audio_url]

Duration: 2:16
'This was Mr Bleaney's room. He stayedThe whole time he was at the Bodies, tillThey moved him.' Flowered curtains, thin and frayed,Fall to within five inches of the sill,Whose window shows a strip of building land,Tussoc…