Poems by John Masefield

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We were schooner-rigged and rakish, with a long and lissome hull,
I hold that when a person dies
Oh yesterday, I t'ink it was, while cruisin' down the street,
Oh I'll be chewing salted horse and biting flinty bread,
We're bound for blue water where the great winds blow,
A wind's in the heart of me, a fire's in my heels,
I had seen flowers come in stony places
I have seen dawn and sunset on moors and windy hills
When I am buried, all my thoughts and acts
In the dark womb where I began
Oh some are fond of red wine, and some are fond of white,
Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir,
Troy Town is covered up with weeds,
"When I’m discharged at Liverpool ‘n’ draws my bit o’ pay,
Laugh and be merry, remember, better the world with a song,
The Kings go by with jewled crowns;
Mother Carey? She's the mother o' the witches
Night is on the downland, on the lonely moorland,
Silent are the woods, and the dim green boughs are
Be with me, Beauty, for the fire is dying;
The meet was at "The Cock and Pye
On old Cold Crendon's windy tops
One road leads to London,
"Goneys an' gullies an' all o' the birds o' the sea
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
Flesh, I have knocked at many a dusty door,
It is good to be out on the road, and going one knows not where,
Thy place is biggyd above the sterrys cleer,
Out beyond the sunset could I but find the way,
Here, where we stood together, we three men,
Once in a hundred years the Lemmings come
Out of the earth to rest or range
Friends and loves we have none, nor wealth nor blessed abode,
All day they loitered by the resting ships,
It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;
Twilight. Red in the West.
The Loch Achray was a clipper tall
In the harbor, in the island, in the Spanish Seas,