John Edward Masefield, OM (1878–1967) was an English poet and writer, and Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom from 1930 until his death in 1967. He is remembered as the author of the classic children’s novels The Midnight Folk and The Box of Delights, and poems, including “The Everlasting Mercy” and “Sea-Fever”.
Source: Wikipedia (via CC-BY-SA license) • READ: Works by John Masefield
Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French.
—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
So shall I fight, so shall I tread,
In this long war beneath the stars;
So shall a glory wreathe my head,
So shall I faint and show the scars,
Until this case, this clogging mould,
Be smithied all to kingly gold.
—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
States are not made, nor patched; they grow: Grow slow through centuries of pain.
—John Masefield
Topics: Government
Commonplace people dislike tragedy because they dare not suffer and cannot exult.
—John Masefield
Topics: Tragedy
While we least think it he prepares his mate. Mate, and the kings pawn played, it never ceases, though all the earth is dust of taken pieces.
—John Masefield
Topics: Life
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?
—John Masefield
To get the whole world out of bed
And washed, and dressed, and warmed, and fed,
To work, and back to bed again,
Believe me, Saul, costs worlds of pain.
—John Masefield
Topics: Work
Lord, give to men who are old and rougher the things that little children suffer, and let keep bright and undefiled the young years of the little child.
—John Masefield
Topics: Children
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.
—John Masefield
Man with his burning soul has but an hour of breath to build a ship of truth in which his soul may sail — sail on the sea of death, for death takes toll of beauty, courage, youth, of all but truth.
—John Masefield
Topics: Truth
Heaven to me’s a fair blue stretch of sky, earth’s jest a dusty road.
—John Masefield
Topics: Heaven
Wondering Whom to Read Next?
John Dryden English Poet
Mary Webb English Novelist
William Wordsworth English Poet
Edmund Spenser English Poet
Geoffrey Chaucer English Poet
Colley Cibber English Playwright
Pamela Hansford Johnson English Novelist
Robert Browning English Poet
Christopher Marlowe English Playwright
Percy Bysshe Shelley English Poet