John Masefield

English poet and writer

John Edward Masefield, OM (1 June 187812 May 1967) was an English poet and writer; he was Poet Laureate from 1930 until his death.

John Masefield in 1912


Salt-Water Ballads (1902)Edit


A tall ship
  • I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
    And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
    And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
    And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

"Trade Winds"Edit

  • And in the ghostly palm-trees the sleepy tune
    Of the quiet voice calling me, the long low croon
    Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.


  • Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir,
    Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,
    With a cargo of ivory,
    And apes and peacocks,
    Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.

"The Golden City of St. Mary"Edit

Out beyond the sunset, could I but find the way,
Is a sleepy blue laguna which widens to a bay,
And there's the Blessed City -- so the sailors say --
The Golden City of St. Mary.

"The West Wind"Edit

  • It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;
    I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes.
    For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills,
    And April's in the west wind, and daffodils.
  • Will you not come home, brother? you have been long away,
    It's April, and blossom time, and white is the spray;
    And bright is the sun, brother, and warm is the rain, -
    Will you not come home, brother, home to us again?

Ballads and Poems (1910)Edit

"Spanish Waters"Edit

  • The moon came white and ghostly as we laid the treasure down,
    There was gear there’d make a beggarman as rich as Lima Town,
    Copper charms and silver trinkets from the chests of Spanish crews,
    Gold doubloons and double moidores, louis d’ors and portagues

"Captain Stratton's Fancy"Edit

  • Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French,
    And some’ll swallow tay and stuff fit only for a wench;
    But I’m for right Jamaica till I roll beneath the bench,
    Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

"C. L. M."Edit

  • In the dark womb where I began
    My mother's life made me a man.
    Through all the months of human birth
    Her beauty fed my common earth.
    I cannot see, nor breathe, nor stir,
    But through the death of some of her.
  • What have I done, or tried, or said
    In thanks to that dear woman dead?
    Men triumph over women still,
    Men trample women's rights at will,
    And man's lust roves the world untamed.
    * * * *
    O grave, keep shut lest I be shamed.

The Everlasting Mercy (1919)Edit

  • From '41 to '51
    I was my folk's contrary son;
    I bit my father's hand right through
    And broke my mother's heart in two.
    • Opening lines
  • My blood did leap, my flesh did revel,
    Saul Kane was tokened to the devil.

King Cole and Other Poems (1926)Edit

"The Rider at the Gate"Edit

I, who was Pompey, once was proud
  • I, who am dead, have ways of knowing
    Of the crop of death that the quick are sowing.
    I, who was Pompey, cry it aloud
    From the dark of death, from the wind blowing.

    I, who was Pompey, once was proud,
    Now I lie in the sand without a shroud;
    I cry to Caesar out of my pain,
    "Caesar beware, your death is vowed."

"Where does the uttered Music go?" (1946)Edit

  • What is this creature, Music, save the Art,
    The Rhythm that the planets journey by?
    The living Sun-Ray entering the heart,
    Touching the Life with that which cannot die?

External linksEdit

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