John Masefield quotes

John Masefield was an English poet and writer, celebrated as one of the leading literary figures of his time. Many remember him for his narrative poems such as "The Everlasting Mercy" and for serving as Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom. He influenced generations of readers with his vivid depictions of the sea and rural life. Here are 29 of his quotes:

It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries; I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills, And April's in the west wind, and daffodils.

John Masefield

In the dark womb where I began My mother's life made me a man. Through all the months of human birth Her beauty fed my common earth. I cannot see, nor breathe, nor stir, But through the death of some of her.

John Masefield

Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir, Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine, With a cargo of ivory, And apes and peacocks, Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.

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

There are few earthly things more beautiful than a university a place where those who hate ignorance may strive to know, where those who perceive truth may strive to make others see.

John Masefield

Once in a century a man may be ruined or made insufferable by praise. But surely once in a minute something generous dies for want of it.

John Masefield

The luck will alter and the star will rise.

John Masefield

It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries.

John Masefield

In this life he laughs longest who laughs last.

John Masefield

Life, a beauty chased by tragic laughter.

John Masefield

Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French, And some'll swallow tay and stuff fit only for a wench; But I'm for right Jamaica till I roll beneath the bench, Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan.

John Masefield

I, who am dead, have ways of knowing Of the crop of death that the quick are sowing. I, who was Pompey, cry it aloud From the dark of death, from the wind blowing. I, who was Pompey, once was proud, Now I lie in the sand without a shroud; I cry to Caesar out of my pain, "Caesar beware, your death is vowed."

John Masefield

And in the ghostly palm-trees the sleepy tune Of the quiet voice calling me, the long low croon Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.

John Masefield

What have I done, or tried, or said In thanks to that dear woman dead? Men triumph over women still, Men trample women's rights at will, And man's lust roves the world untamed. * * * * O grave, keep shut lest I be shamed.

John Masefield

My blood did leap, my flesh did revel, Saul Kane was tokened to the devil.

John Masefield

What is this creature, Music, save the Art, The Rhythm that the planets journey by? The living Sun-Ray entering the heart, Touching the Life with that which cannot die?

John Masefield

Will you not come home, brother? you have been long away, It's April, and blossom time, and white is the spray; And bright is the sun, brother, and warm is the rain, - Will you not come home, brother, home to us again?

John Masefield

I must down to the sea 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.

John Masefield

The distant soul can shake the distant friend's soul and make the longing felt, over untold miles.

John Masefield

I must go down to the sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky; and all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by.

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

Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain.

John Masefield