BY JOHN MASEFIELD
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.
There is nothing I enjoy more than the feel of sand between my toes.
I love to listen to the crash of the waves. Their rhythmic ebb and flow soothes me.
When my soul is troubled; sand, water and sky bring peace.
Time along the river's edge or the shore of a lake is a temporary fix.
I feel myself drawn to the sea. It is a physical pull.
It fills my senses with smells, sounds, sights, tastes, and textures.
There is nothing that can compare. My spirit is revived, my heart feels lighter.