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;
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song
and the white sails shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea's face,
and a gray dawn breaking.
I must go down to the sea 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 seagulls crying.
I must go down to the sea 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 tricks over.
--John Masefield
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