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

poet John Masefield
#76 on top 500 poets

Quotations

  • '''When freezing aloft in a snorter, I tell you I wish—
    (Though maybe it ain't like a Christian)MI wish I could be
    A haughty old copper-bound albatross dipping for fish
    And coming the proud over all o' the birds o' the sea.'''
    John Masefield (1878-1967), British poet. Sea Change (l. 13-16). . . Oxford Book of Modern Verse, The, 1892-1935. William Butler Yeats, ed. (1936) Oxford University Press.
    38 person liked.
    		19 person did not like.
  • ''I must 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.''
    John Masefield (1874-1967), British poet, playwright. "Sea Fever," st. 2, Salt-Water Ballads (1902). The line appears as "I must go down to the seas again ... " in some collections, and in John Ireland's musical setting of the poem; though apparently not in Masefield's drafts, nor in the first published version.
    167 person liked.
    		32 person did not like.
  • ''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,''
    John Masefield (1878-1967), British poet. Sea Fever (l. 1-2). . . Modern American & British Poetry. Louis Untermeyer, ed., in consultation with Karl Shapiro and Richard Wilbur. (Rev., shorter ed., 1955) Harcourt, Brace and Company.
    136 person liked.
    		33 person did not like.
  • ''Out of the earth to rest or range
    Perpetual in perpetual change,
    The unknown passing through the strange.''
    John Masefield (1878-1967), British poet. The Passing Strange (l. 1-3). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
    35 person liked.
    		12 person did not like.
  • ''Since moons decay and suns decline,
    How else should end this life of mine?''
    John Masefield (1878-1967), British poet. The Passing Strange (l. 46-47). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
    4 person liked.
    		1 person did not like.
  • ''They change, and we, who pass like foam,
    Like dust blown through the streets of Rome,
    Change ever, too; we have no home,''
    John Masefield (1878-1967), British poet. The Passing Strange (l. 61-63). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
    3 person liked.
    		1 person did not like.
  • ''But gathering as we stray, a sense
    Of Life, so lovely and intense,
    It lingers when we wander hence,

    That those who follow feel behind
    Their backs, when all before is blind,
    Our joy, a rampart to the mind.''
    John Masefield (1878-1967), British poet. The Passing Strange (l. 67-72). . . Oxford Book of English Verse, The, 1250-1918. Sir Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. (New ed., rev. and enl., 1939) Oxford University Press.
    3 person liked.
    		1 person did not like.
  • ''Commonplace people dislike tragedy because they dare not suffer and cannot exult.''
    John Masefield (1874-1967), British poet, playwright. The Tragedy of Nan, preface (1908).
    4 person liked.
    		2 person did not like.
  • ''It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;
    I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes.''
    John Masefield (1878-1967), British poet. The West Wind (l. 1-2). . . Modern American & British Poetry. Louis Untermeyer, ed., in consultation with Karl Shapiro and Richard Wilbur. (Rev., shorter ed., 1955) Harcourt, Brace and Company.
    9 person liked.
    		4 person did not like.
  • ''It's a fine land, the west land, for hearts as tired as mine,
    Apple orchards blossom there, and the air's like wine.''
    John Masefield (1878-1967), British poet. The West Wind (l. 5-6). . . Modern American & British Poetry. Louis Untermeyer, ed., in consultation with Karl Shapiro and Richard Wilbur. (Rev., shorter ed., 1955) Harcourt, Brace and Company.
    8 person liked.
    		1 person did not like.

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Night Is On The Downland

Night is on the downland, on the lonely moorland,
On the hills where the wind goes over sheep-bitten turf,
Where the bent grass beats upon the unplowed poorland
And the pine-woods roar like the surf.

Here the Roman lived on the wind-barren lonely,
Dark now and haunted by the moorland fowl;
None comes here now but the peewit only,
And moth-like death in the owl.

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