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John Masefield

John Masefield Books

Poet

Selected poems

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Poems

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Recent prose

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“Sea-fever 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, 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 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 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.”

PoetrySeaVoyage
Book:Sea Fever: Selected Poems
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“Within a minute he had squirmed down feet foremost into this cellar, to explore. The phantom cat had long since gone by another hole between the stones, through which he could see into the garden. He could find no other opening. Roots of ivy thrust into the ground among the masonry; tendrils of ivy with bright, pale leaves had trailed in through the holes. There were slug tracks on the floor and walls. A dead centipede was phosphorescent in a corner. 'What a lovely place,' Kay thought. 'I shall be able to come here always and have it for my cave. I’ll bring bread and ham here. I’ll keep a catapult here. Perhaps I’ll run away some evening and sleep here. I wish I could get one of those lanterns with colored lights; that would be just the thing for here.”

ChildrenHiding PlacesSecret Forts
Book:The Midnight Folk
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“He had some old lumps of sugar put away under the carpet. He took out one of these and carefully opened the bottle. The mixture had a warm, rich smell, like the smell of green bracken on a very hot day. 'I must be very careful of this,' he thought. He dropped three drops onto a lump, popped it into his mouth, and restoppered the vial. A glow went through him, as though he were sucking the loveliest peppermint ever made. He hid the vial in a mouse hole in the skirting board behind the valance, and then stood up. He felt a pepperminty feeling go tingling along his toes, and lo, he looked at his toes and could not see them, nor his legs, nor his pajamas. And though he looked at himself in the glass, he was not there; he was invisible. 'I say, what fun,' he said.”

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Book:The Midnight Folk
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“So death obscures your gentle form, So memory strives to make the darkness bright; And, in that heap of rocks, your body lies, Part of the island till the planet ends, My gentle comrade, beautiful and wise, Part of this crag this bitter surge offends, While I, who pass, a little obscure thing, War with this force, and breathe, and am its king.”

LittlesWarEndsBodyBeautifulFormLyingForceMemoriesDarknessWiseRocksPlanetsKingsStriveBreatheYour BodyBitterGentleIslandsObscureStrifeComrade
Book:Letters to Margaret Bridges (1915-1919)
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“People who leave their own time out of their work cannot be surprised if their time fails to find them interesting.”

PeopleIfsTimeInterestingFailing
Book:With the Living Voice: An Address by John Masefield, Given at the First General Meeting of the Scottish Association for the Speaking of Verse, 24th October, 1924
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