Roadways
One road leads to London, One road leads to Wales,
My road leads me seawards To the white dipping sails.
One road leads to the river, As it goes singing slow;
My road leads to shipping, Where the bronzed sailors go.
Leads me, lures me, calls me To salt green tossing sea;
A road without earth's road-dust Is the right road for me.
A wet road heaving, shining, And wild with segulls' cries,
A mad salt sea-wind blowing The salt spray in my eyes.
My road calls me, lures me West, east, south, and north;
Most roads lead men homewards, My road leads me forth To add more miles to the tally Of grey miles left behind,
In quest of that one beauty God put me here to find.
John Masefield
Other author posts
Sonnet II
Forget all these, the barren fool in power, The madman in command, the jealous O, The bitter world, biting its bitter hour, The cruel now, the happy long ago
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 ...
The Wanderer
All day they loitered by the resting ships, Telling their beauties over, taking stock; At night the verdict left my messmate's lips, The Wanderer is the finest ship in dock I had not seen her, but a friend, since drowned,
Lollingdon Downs VIII
HE Kings go by with jewled crowns; Their horses gleam, their banners shake, their spears are many The sack of many-peopled towns Is all their dream: The way they take Leaves but a ruin in the brake,