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John Masefield Biography

John Edward Masefield, OM (/ˈmeɪsˌfiːld, ˈmeɪz-/; 1 June 1878 – 12 May 1967) English poet and writer, was Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom from 1930. Among his best known works are the children's novels The Midnight Folk and The Box of Delights, and the poems "The Everlasting Mercy" and "Sea-Fever".

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John Masefield Quotes

Commonplace people dislike tragedy because they dare not suffer and cannot exult.

Dislike, Exult, People, Suffering, Tragedy

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.

Beautiful, Body, Kings, Lies, Thing, Wise

It may be that we cease; we cannot tell. Even if we cease, life is a miracle.

Cease, Life, Life Is, May, Miracle

People who leave their own time out of their work cannot be surprised if their time fails to find them interesting.

Interesting, Leave, People, Time

Life is a long headache in a noisy street.

Headache, Life, Long, Noisy

In this life he laughs longest who laughs last.

Laughing, Laughs, Laughter, Life, Longest

When the last sea is sailed and last shallow charted, When the last field is reaped and the last harvest stored, When the last fire is out and the last guest departed Grant the last prayer that I pray, Be good to me, O Lord.

Death, Fire, Guest, Pray, Prayer, Shallow

The Lord who gave us Earth and Heaven Takes that as thanks for all He's given. The book he lent is given back All blotted red and smutted black.

Book, God, Heaven, Lent, Thanks

What am I, Life? A thing of watery salt Held in cohesion by unresting cells, Which work they know not why, which never halt, Myself unwitting where their Master dwells?

Cells, Life, Master, Unresting, Watery, Work

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.

Finder, Inspiration, Men, Play, Seeker, Strive

The days that make us happy make us wise

Days, Happiness, Happy, Make, Wise

Lord, give to me who are old and rougher The things that little children suffer, And let keep bright and undefiled The young years of the little child.

Children, Give, Giving, Suffer, Years, Young

Poetry is a mixture of common sense, which not all have, with an uncommon sense, which very few have.

Common Sense, Mixture, Mixtures, Poetry, Sense

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.

Down, Lonely, Sea, Star, Stars, Steer

It is too maddening. I've got to fly off, right now, to some devilish navy yard, three hours in a seasick steamer, and after being heartily sick, I'll have to speak three times, and then I'll be sick coming home. Still, who would not be sick for England?

Home, Navy, Seasick, Sick, Times, Yard

Off Cape Horn there are but two kinds of weather, neither one of them a pleasant kind.

Horn, Kind, Kinds, Sailing, Two, Weather

From '41 to '51I was my folk's contrary son;I bit my father's hand right throughAnd broke my mother's heart in two.

51I, Contrary, Father, Heart, Mother

Most roads lead men homewards, My road leads me forth

Finding Yourself, Forth, Homewards, Journey, Men

On the long dusty ribbon of the long city street, The pageant of life is passing me on multitudinous feet, With a word here of the hills, and a song there of the sea And-the great movement changes-the pageant passes me.

City, Life, Movement, Sea, Song

Life's battle is a conquest for the strong; The meaning shows in the defeated thing.

Battle, Defeated, Shows, Strong

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