John Masefield

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

— John Masefield

And in the ghostly palm-trees the sleepy tuneOf the steady Trade Winds blowing.

— John Masefield

Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir,Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.

— John Masefield

It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;And April's in the west wind, and daffodils.

— John Masefield

Will you not come home, brother? you have been long away,Will you not come home, brother, home to us again?

— John Masefield

The moon came white and ghostly as we laid the treasure down,Gold doubloons and double moidores, louis d’ors and portagues

— John Masefield

Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French,Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

— John Masefield

In the dark womb where I beganBut through the death of some of her.

— John Masefield

What have I done, or tried, or saidO grave, keep shut lest I be shamed.

— John Masefield

From '41 to '51And broke my mother's heart in two.

— John Masefield

My blood did leap, my flesh did revel,Saul Kane was tokened to the devil.

— John Masefield

I, who am dead, have ways of knowing"Caesar beware, your death is vowed."

— John Masefield

What is this creature, Music, save the Art,Touching the Life with that which cannot die?

— John Masefield