John Masefield

(1 June 1878 – 12 May 1967 / Herefordshire / England)

John Masefield Poems

If you see a poem only with title, it is listed that way because of copyright reasons.
1. Twilight 4/3/2010
2. Trade Winds 12/31/2002
3. The Yarn Of The Loch Achray 12/31/2002
4. The Wild Duck 4/3/2010
5. The West Wind 12/31/2002
6. The Wanderer 12/31/2002
7. The Tarry Buccaneer 4/3/2010
8. The Seekers 12/31/2002
9. The Passing Strange 1/3/2003
10. The Lemmings 4/3/2010
11. The Island Of Skyros 1/3/2003
12. The Golden City Of St. Mary 4/3/2010
13. The Everlasting Mercy 1/3/2003
14. Tewkesbury Road 12/31/2002
15. Sonnet Ii 4/3/2010
16. Sonnet 12/31/2002
17. Seven Poems 4/3/2010
18. Sea Fever 12/31/2002
19. Sea Change 1/3/2003
20. Roadways 12/31/2002
21. Reynard The Fox - Part 2 4/3/2010
22. Reynard The Fox - Part 1 4/3/2010
23. One Of The Bo'sun's Yarns 4/3/2010
24. On Growing Old 12/31/2002
25. On Eastnor Knoll 12/31/2002
26. Night Is On The Downland 1/3/2003
27. Mother Carey (As Told Me By The Bo'sun) 4/3/2010
28. Lollingdon Downs Viii 12/31/2002
29. Laugh And Be Merry 4/3/2010
30. Hell's Pavement 4/3/2010
31. Fragments 4/3/2010
32. Dauber 4/3/2010
33. Cargoes 12/31/2002
34. Captain Stratton's Fancy 1/1/2004
35. C.L.M. 12/31/2002
36. By A Bier-Side 4/3/2010
37. Biography 4/3/2010
38. Beauty 12/31/2002
39. An Epilogue 1/3/2003
40. A Wanderer's Song 12/31/2002
Best Poem of John Masefield

Sea Fever

I must go 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 gray mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy ...

Read the full of Sea Fever

Cargoes

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.

Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,
Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,
With a cargo of diamonds,

[Hata Bildir]