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 grey 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 life,
To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.
John Masefield
Другие работы автора
Seven Poems
I Here in the self is all that man can know Of Beauty, all the wonder, all the power, All the unearthly colour, all the glow, Here in the self which withers like a flower; Here in the self which fades as hours pass,
The Passing Strange
Out of the earth to rest or Perpetual in perpetual change, The unknown passing through the strange Water and saltness held
Laugh and be Merry
Laugh and be merry, remember, better the world with a song, Better the world with a blow in the teeth of a wrong Laugh, for the time is brief, a thread the length of a span Laugh and be proud to belong to the old proud pageant of man
Trade Winds
In the harbour, in the island, in the Spanish Seas, Are the tiny white houses and the orange-trees, And day-long, night-long, the cool and pleasant breeze Of the steady Trade Winds blowing There is the red wine, the nutty Spanish ale,
