Poems on the Underground recordings People and Places

People and Places

'The world is too much with us' by William Wordsworth (1770-1850) ' The world is too much with us; late and soon, Getting and spending, we lay waste our powers: Little we see in nature that is ours; We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon! This Sea that bares her bosom to the moon; The Winds that will be howling at all hours And are up-gathered now like sleeping flowers; For this, for every thing, we are out of tune; It moves us not. Great God! I'd rather be A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn; So might I, standing on this pleasant lea, Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn; Have sight of Proteus coming from the sea; Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn. ' Poems on the Underground The British Council. The British Library (Zweig Programme). Designed by Tom Davidson.

The world is too much with us by William Wordsworth read by Gerard Benson

I Am by john Clare ( 1793-1864) ' I am—yet what I am none cares or knows; My friends forsake me like a memory lost: I am the self-consumer of my woes, They rise and vanish in oblivious host, Like shades in love and death's oblivion lost, And yet I am- and live, with shadows tossed Into the nothingness of scorn and noise, Into the living sea of waking dreams, Where there is neither sense of life nor joys, But the vast shipwreck of my life’s esteems; And e'en the dearest , that I loved the best, Are strange—nay, rather stranger than the rest. I long for scenes where man has never trod, A place where woman never smiled or wept, There to abide with my creator, God, And sleep as I in childhood sweetly slept, Untroubling and untroubled where I lie; The grass below—above the vaulted sky.'

I Am by John Clare read by Cicely Herbert

A Dead Statesman, Rudyard Kipling 'I could not dig: I dared not rob: Therefore I lied to please the mob. Now all my lies are proved untrue And I must face the men I slew. What tale shall serve me here among Mine angry and defrauded young?'

A Dead Statesman by Rudyard Kipling read by Gerard Benson

Handbag , Ruth Fainlight ' My mother's old leather handbag, crowded with letters she carried all through the war. The smell of my mother's handbag: mints and lipstick and Coty powder. The look of those letters, softened and worn at the edges, opened, read, and refolded so often. Letters from my father. Odour of leather and powder, which ever since then has meant womanliness, and love, and anguish, and war.'

Handbag by Ruth Fainlight read by Ruth Fainlight

I am Becoming My Mother by Lorna Goodison Poems on the Underground Poster 2004 'I Am Becoming My Mother Yellow/brown woman fingers smelling always of onions My mother raises rare blooms and waters them with tea her birth waters sang like rivers my mother is now me My mother had a linen dress the colour of the sky and stored lace and damask tablecloths to pull shame out of her eye. I am becoming my mother brown/yellow woman fingers smelling always of onions.'

I am Becoming My Mother by Lorna Goodison read by Valerie Bloom

Aunt Jennifer’s Tigers, Adrienne Rich ' Aunt Jennifer's tigers prance across a screen, Bright topaz denizens of a world of green. They do not fear the men beneath the tree; They pace in sleek chivalric certainty. Aunt Jennifer's finger fluttering through her wool Find even the ivory needle hard to pull. The massive weight of Uncle's wedding band Sits heavily upon Aunt Jennifer's hand. When Aunt is dead, her terrified hands will lie Still ringed with ordeals she was mastered by. The tigers in the panel that she made Will go on prancing, proud and unafraid.'

Aunt Jennifer’s Tigers by Adrienne Rich

The Leader, Roger McGough Poems on the Underground 1995 Poster 'I wanna be the leader I wanna be the leader Can I be the leader? Can I? I can? Promise? Promise? Yippee. I'm the leader I'm the leader OK what shall we do?'

The Leader by Roger McGough read by Roger McGough

X J Kennedy, To Someone Who Insisted I Look Up Someone I rang them up while touring Timbuctoo, Those bosom chums to whom you're known as 'Who?'

To Someone Who Insisted I Look Up Someone by X.J. Kennedy read by Fleur Adcock

This Is Just To Say , William Carlos Williams Poems on the Underground Poster 1992 'I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox and which you were probably saving for breakfast Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold'

This is Just to Say by William Carlos Williams read by Christopher Logue

Spike Milligan, Teeth 'English Teeth, English Teeth! Shining in the sun a part of British heritage aye, each and every one.'

Teeth by Spike Milligan read by Gavin Ewart

A song for England, Andrew Salkey. Poems on the Underground poster 1991 'An' a so de rain a-fall An' a so de snow a-rain An' a so de fog a-fall An' a so de sun a-fail An' a so de seasons mix An' a so de bag-o'-tricks But a so me understan' De misery o' de Englishman.

A song for England by Andrew Salkey read by Valerie Bloom

Lady 'Rogue' Singleton, Stevie Smith 'Come, wed me, Lady Singleton, And we will have a baby soon And we will live in Edmonton Where all the friendly people run.'

Lady ‘Rogue’ Singleton by Stevie Smith read by Adrian Mitchell

Milton Kessler, Thanks Forever ' Look at those empty ships floating north between south-running ice like big tulips in the Narrows under the Verrazano toward the city harbour.'

Thanks Forever by Milton Kessler read by Christopher Logue

Eavan Boland, The Emigrant Irish Poems on the Underground 1992 ' Like oil lamps we put them out the back, of our houses, of our minds. We had lights better than, newer than and then a time came, this time and now we need them. Their dread, makeshift example. They would have thrived on our necessities. What they survived we could not even live. By their lights now it is time to imagine how they stood there, what they stood with, that their possessions may become our power: Cardboard. Iron. Their hardships parcelled in them. Patience. Fortitude. Long-suffering in the bruise-coloured dusk of the New World. And all the old songs. And nothing to lose.' .''

The Emigrant Irish by Eavan Boland read by Fleur Adcock

Celia Celia and Goodbye, Adrian Mitchell ' When I am sad and weary, When I think all hope has gone, When I walk along High Holborn I think of you with nothing on'

Goodbye by Adrian Mitchell read by Adrian Mitchell

The Boundary Commission by Paul Muldoon (b.1951) ' You remember that village where the border ran Down the middle of the street, With the butcher and baker in different states? Today he remarked how a shower of rain Had stopped so cleanly across Golightly's lane, It might have been a wall of glass That had toppled over. He stood there, for ages, To wonder which side, if any, he should be on. '

The Boundary Commission by Paul Muldoon read by Fleur Adcock

The Coming of Grendel from BEOWULF (10th century or earlier) translated by Gerard Benson 'Now from the marshlands under the mist-mountains Came Grendel prowling; branded with God`s ire. This murderous monster was minded to entrap Some hapless human in that high hall. On he came under the clouds, until clearly He could see the great golden feasting place, Glimmering wine-hall of men. Not his first Raid was this on the homeplace of Hrothgar. Never before though and never afterward Did he encounter hardier defenders of a hall.'

The Coming of Grendel from Beowulf read by Gerard Benson

Sometimes by Sheenagh Pugh (b. 1950)' Sometimes things don't go after all, from bad to worse. Some years, muscadel faces down frost; green thrives; the crops don't fail, sometimes a man aims high, and all goes well. A people sometimes will step back from war; elect an honest man; decide they care enough, that they can't leave some stranger poor. Some men become what they were born for. Sometimes our best efforts do not go amiss; sometimes we do as we meant to. The sun will sometimes melt a field of sorrow that seemed hard frozen: may it happen for you.' Reprinted by permission of Seren Books from Selected Poems (1990) © Sheenagh Pugh 1990 100 Poems on the Underground

Sometimes by Sheenah Pugh read by Wendy Cope

Benediction, James Berry 'Thanks to the ear that someone may hear Thanks to seeing that someone may see Thanks to feeling that someone may feel Thanks to touch that one may be touched Thanks to flowering of white moon and spreading shawl of black night holding villages and cities together'

Benediction by James Berry read by James Berry