Sea Fever

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.

— John Masefield

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