John Masefield > Quotes

“The days that make us happy make us wise.”
― John Masefield

“Life, a beauty chased by tragic laughter.”
― John Masefield, King Cole

“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.”
― John Masefield, Sea Fever: Selected Poems

“The distant soul can shake the distant friend's soul and make the longing felt, over untold miles.”
― John Masefield

“Only the road and the dawn, the sun, the wind, and the rain,
And the watch fire under stars, and sleep, and the road again.
”
― John Masefield

“I have seen flowers come in stony places
And kind things done by men with ugly faces,
And the gold cup won by the worst horse at the races,
So I trust, too.”
― John Masefield

“All I ask is a tall ship and a star to sail her by.”
― John Masefield

“Men in a ship are always looking up, and men ashore are usually looking down.”
― John Masefield

“Christmas ought to be brought up to date,” Maria said. “It ought to have gangsters, and aeroplanes and a lot of automatic pistols.”
― John Masefield, The Box of Delights

“But Time and Tide and Buttered Eggs wait for no man.”
― John Masefield

“Most roads lead men homewards,
My road leads forth.”
― John Masefield

“The Thames is a wretched river after the Mersey and the ships are not like Liverpool ships and the docks are barren of beauty ... it is a beastly hole after Liverpool; for Liverpool is the town of my heart and I would rather sail a mudflat there than command a clipper out of London”
― John Masefield

“I must go down to the sea...to the lonely sea and the sky, And all I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by......”
― John Masefield

“Beauty you lifted up my sleeping eye And filled my heart with longing with a look.”
― John Masefield

“On Growing Old

Be with me, Beauty, for the fire is dying;
My dog and I are old, too old for roving.
Man, whose young passion sets the spindrift flying,
Is soon too lame to march, too cold for loving.
I take the book and gather to the fire,
Turning old yellow leaves; minute by minute
The clock ticks to my heart. A withered wire,
Moves a thin ghost of music in the spinet.
I cannot sail your seas, I cannot wander
Your cornland, nor your hill-land, nor your valleys
Ever again, nor share the battle yonder
Where the young knight the broken squadron rallies.
Only stay quiet while my mind remembers
The beauty of fire from the beauty of embers.

Beauty, have pity! for the strong have power,
The rich their wealth, the beautiful their grace,
Summer of man its sunlight and its flower.
Spring-time of man, all April in a face.
Only, as in the jostling in the Strand,
Where the mob thrusts, or loiters, or is loud,
The beggar with the saucer in his hand
Asks only a penny from the passing crowd,
So, from this glittering world with all its fashion,
Its fire, and play of men, its stir, its march,
Let me have wisdom, Beauty, wisdom and passion,
Bread to the soul, rain when the summers parch.
Give me but these, and though the darkness close
Even the night will blossom as the rose.”
― John Masefield, Enslaved and Other Poems

“. . . Therefore, go forth, companion: when you find
No highway more, no track, all being blind,
The way to go shall glimmer in the mind.
Though you have conquered Earth and Charted Sea
And planned the courses of all Stars that be,
Adventure on, more wonders are in Thee.
Adventure on, for from the littlest clue
Has come whatever worth man ever knew;
The next to lighten all men may be you . . .”
― John Masefield

“I must go down to the sea again, for the call of the running tide, is a wild call and a clear call, that cannot be denied!”
― John Masefield

“A wind's in the heart of me, a fire's in my heels”
― John Masefield

“The wolves are running.”
― John Masefield, Box of Delights

“(...) It,s hard not to be able. There, look there!/ I cannot get the movement nor the light;/Sometimes it almost makes a man despair/To try and try and never get it right./Oh, if I could -oh, if I only might,/I wouldn,t mind what hells I,d have to pass,/Not if the whole world called me fool and ass."

Dauber (A poem). John Masefield. 1916. London William Heinemann”
― John Masefield

“Youth is bright and beautiful, like the animals. Age is too tired to care for beauty. The bright, beautiful creatures dash themselves against the bars of age’s forging, against law, custom, duty, and those inventions of cold blood which youth thinks cold and age knows to be wise.”
― John Masefield, William Shakespeare

“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.”
― John Masefield, The Midnight Folk

“Outside the stable, on the walls which seemed to be directly over his lair, he noticed the toadflax. It had little, mouthed flowers of palest purple touched with gold, which reminded him of snapdragons, violets, and sweet peas. It had vivid green leaves and thrusters of purple. Noticing it for the first time on this exciting day in that place, he remembered it always, as something even more strangely beautiful than most flowers.”
― John Masefield, The Midnight Folk

“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.”
― John Masefield, The Midnight Folk

“And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.”
― John Masefield

“Be with me, Beauty, for the fire is dying;
My dog and I are old, too old for roving.
Man, whose young passion sets the spindrift flying,
Is soon too lame to march, too cold for loving.
I take the book and gather to the fire,
Turning old yellow leaves; minute by minute
The clock ticks to my heart. A withered wire,
Moves a thin ghost of music in the spinet.
I cannot sail your seas, I cannot wander
Your cornland, nor your hill-land, nor your valleys
Ever again, nor share the battle yonder
Where the young knight the broken squadron rallies.
Only stay quiet while my mind remembers
The beauty of fire from the beauty of embers.

Beauty, have pity! for the strong have power,
The rich their wealth, the beautiful their grace,
Summer of man its sunlight and its flower.
Spring-time of man, all April in a face.
Only, as in the jostling in the Strand,
Where the mob thrusts, or loiters, or is loud,
The beggar with the saucer in his hand
Asks only a penny from the passing crowd,
So, from this glittering world with all its fashion,
Its fire, and play of men, its stir, its march,
Let me have wisdom, Beauty, wisdom and passion,
Bread to the soul, rain when the summers parch.
Give me but these, and though the darkness close
Even the night will blossom as the rose.

-John Masefield, "On growing old”
― John Masefield