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Read by Petroc Trelawny, Charles Dance, Rupert Evans + 3 others
Well, how are things in Heaven? I wish you’d say, Because I’d like to know that you’re all right. Tell me, have you found everlasting day, Or been sucked in…
Read by Rupert Evans, Damian Lewis, Greg Wise + 1 other
On through the hail of slaughter, Where gallant comrades fall, Where blood is poured like water, They drive the trickling ball. The fear of death before them, Is but an…
Read by Alicia Vikander, Lisa Dwan, Emilia Fox + 1 other
Will the train never start? God, make the train start. She cannot bear it, keeping up so long; and he, he no more tries to laugh at her. He is…
Read by Charles Dance, Mark Strong, Greg Wise + 1 other
This is no case of petty right or wrong That politicians or philosophers Can judge. I hate not Germans, nor grow hot With love of Englishmen, to please newspapers. Beside…
Read by Rupert Evans, Tom Burke, Dan Stevens + 1 other
If I should die, think only this of me: That there’s some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a…
Read by Charles Dance, Hugh Dancy, Damian Lewis + 2 others
Blow out, you bugles, over the rich Dead! There’s none of these so lonely and poor of old, But, dying, has made us rarer gifts than gold. These laid the…
Read by Harold Pinter, Neil Dudgeon, Samuel West + 1 other
When I see a couple of kids And guess he’s fucking her and she’s Taking pills or wearing a diaphragm, I know this is paradise Everyone old has dreamed of…
Read by Samuel West & Deborah Findlay
Come To Sunny Prestatyn Laughed the girl on the poster, Kneeling up on the sand In tautened white satin. Behind her, a hunk of coast, a Hotel with palms Seemed…
Read by Owen McDonnell, Harold Pinter, Samuel West + 1 other
When I drop four cubes of ice Chimingly in a glass, and add Three goes of gin, a lemon slice, And let a ten-ounce tonic void In foaming gulps until…
Why should I let the toad work Squat on my life? Can’t I use my wit as a pitchfork And drive the brute off? Six days of the week it…
Read by Neil Dudgeon & Harold Pinter
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night. Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare. In time the curtain-edges will grow light. Till then I see what’s really…
Read by Harold Pinter
At last you yielded up the album, which Once open, sent me distracted. All your ages Matt and glossy on the thick black pages! Too much confectionery, too rich: I…