John Masefield
John Masefield
John Edward Masefield, OMwas an English poet and writer, and Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom from 1930 until his death in 1967. He is remembered as the author of the classic children's novels The Midnight Folk and The Box of Delights, and poems, including "The Everlasting Mercy" and "Sea-Fever"...
NationalityEnglish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth1 June 1878
beauty coming english-poet slow solemn tunes
Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain.
dipping leads road runs white
One road leads to London, / One road runs to Wales, / My road leads me seawards / To the white dipping sails.
blow laugh teeth
Laugh and be merry, remember, better the world with a song. / Better the world with a blow in the teeth of a wrong.
brand brow man success
Success is the brand on the brow of a man who has aimed too low.
love race watch
My race being run, I love to watch the race
again ask dream gypsy laughing merry quiet seas sleep sweet yarn
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 o
call clear running sea tide wild
I must down to the sea again, for the call of the running tide / Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied.
death doors dies
Death opens unknown doors. It is most grand to die.
may pages taverns
And may we find when ended is the page, Death but a tavern on our pilgrimage.
men soul corn
The corn that makes the holy bread By which the soul of man is fed, The holy bread, the food unpriced, Thy everlasting mercy, Christ.
spring flower heart
O lovely lily clean, O lily springing green, O lily bursting white, Dear lily of delight, Spring in my heart agen That I may flower to men.
beautiful wise kings
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.
stars war struggle
So shall I fight, so shall I tread, In this long war beneath the stars; So shall a glory wreathe my head, So shall I faint and show the scars, Until this case, this clogging mould, Be smithied all to kingly gold.
inspiration men play
In the power and splendor of the universe, inspiration waits for the millions to come. Man has only to strive for it. Poems greater than the Iliad, plays greater than Macbeth, stories more engaging than Don Quixote await their seeker and finder.