The lonely sea and the sky

Another John Masefield poem came to mind as I walked to the beach this morning ("Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir …" – such wonderful words), but the scene calls for the one below.

With a cool breeze blowing, the hat seller had changed his line to “Warm your head with a hat” and let me take a snap. Then Maria from Ukraine asked me to take her picture. I thought she must be very worried about the situation at home, and she said she was, but believes everything will be all right in the end. I hope that’s not just Rio-induced optimism. We walked off in opposite directions, but later, thinking I spotted her in the distance, I caught up to ask if she’d like to come back to our house for coffee. However, it was different girl who turned towards me, so I felt a bit foolish and scurried off home.

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;
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.

Sea Fever
John Masefield