John Masefield (1878-1967) ran away to sea as a teenager but was not deterred by sea-sickness from a lyrical devotion to it.

This much loved poem, written about the time of Debussy’s great orchestral piece, La Mer, was itself set masterfully to music by Masefield’s contemporary, John Ireland.

Two notes on the wording: The poet deliberately left out “go” as the third word in each first line of the three verses; the “trick” in the last line means a spell at the

helm. (My father, a radio operator in the Merchant Navy in the First World War, owned a copy of the sheet music for the Ireland setting which gives it extra

poignancy for me).

LESLEY DUNCAN

SEA-FEVER

I must 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 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 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