First posted August 14, 2010
I admit that today I would much rather be sailing than sewing. I sometimes get an overwhelming urge to once more live and work at sea. Today’s one of those days that I’m missing the life of a sea person.
I had to memorize this poem when I was in the third grade and I’ve never forgotten it. I guess I’ve always been pulled to the sea. The next best thing to living on a ship is living on an island. I momentarily got fed up with my little money pit and considered moving to an apartment on the mainland.
I even put the house up for sale, but God watched over me and brought me to my senses. The people who were lookers were also the people who wanted me to give them my little home for less than I’ve put in it to fix it up. We won’t even mention what I paid for it.
I’m not the only former sea person who knows this poem. It always brings to mind one of my British doctors, Brian. Hey, Brian. I miss you.
This haunting poem was written by one of England’s poet laureates, 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 gray mist on the sea’s face, and a gray 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;
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 go 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.