{thanksfully, 2.0: by the sea, by the beautiful sea}

Sea Fever

By John Masefield

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;

…

::sigh::

MANY people don’t understand my fascination with islands. I don’t either – it’s not ALL islands, because certainly Puerto Rico and England don’t do it for me. But, these untamed bits – Skye and Mull, Iceland and Sitka (and yes, I know, not all of these count as REAL islands, just spits of land, surrounded by water) – they have something hypnotically pleasing about them.

When John Masefield first published this poem, in 1902, he was a few years from deserting his post as a merchant seaman… and was working at a carpet factory. As far as I know, he never went to sea again, and was elected poet laureate in 1930. Still, it did something for him, as it does something for most of us.

For the sea – for the endless, hypnotic, fragile, so easily polluted, beautiful sea.

For this I give thanks.