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 wheelâs kick and the windâs song and the white sailâs shaking,
And a grey mist on the seaâs face, and a grey dawn breaking.
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;
And the wheelâs kick and the windâs song and the white sailâs shaking,
And a grey mist on the seaâs 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 gullâs way and the whaleâs way where the windâs 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 trickâs over.
By John Masefield
