1 min read
Слушать(AI)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,
Emeralds, amythysts,
Topazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.
Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,
Butting through the Channel in the mad March days,
With a cargo of Tyne coal,
Road-rails, pig-lead,
Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.
From
ER
MS
ND
DS, edited by John Masefield, published by The Macmillan Co.,
New York,
US, 1944, p. 124; first published in
ER
MS, © 1902.
John Masefield
John Edward Masefield OM (/ˈmeɪsˌfiːld, ˈmeɪz-/; 1 June 1878 – 12 May 1967) was an English poet and writer, and Poet Laureate from 1930 until 19
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
Mother Carey As told Me by the Bosun
Mother Carey She's the mother o' the witches'N' all them sort o' rips; She's a fine gell to look at, but the hitch is, She's a sight too fond of ships;
Twilight
Twilight it is, and the far woods are dim, and the rooks cry and call Down in the valley the lamps, and the mist, and a star over all, There by the rick, where they thresh, is the drone at an end, Twilight it is, and I travel the road with my...
The Yarn of the Loch Achray
The Loch Achray was a clipper With seven-and-twenty hands in all Twenty to hand and reef and haul, A skipper to sail and mates to bawlTally on to the tackle-fall,
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
