It may be that we cease; we cannot tell. Even if we cease, life is a miracle. — John Masefield Copy Share Image
All ye that pass by! While we least think it he prepares his Mate. Mate, and the King's pawn played, it never ceases, Though all the earth is dust of taken pieces. — John Masefield Copy Share Image
What am I, Life? A thing of watery salt Held in cohesion by unresting cells, Which work they know not why, which never halt,… — John Masefield Copy Share Image
Men in a ship are always looking up, and men ashore are usually looking down. — John Masefield Copy Share Image
I have seen dawn and sunset on moors and windy hills Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain. — John Masefield Copy Share Image
I must go down to the sea again For the call of the running tide It's a wild call and a clear call that… — John Masefield Copy Share Image
“(...) It,s hard not to be able. There, look there!/ I cannot get the movement nor the light;/Sometimes it almost makes a man despair/To… — John Masefield Copy Share Image
Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir, Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine, With a cargo of ivory, And apes and peacocks, Sandalwood, cedarwood,… — John Masefield Copy Share Image
Only the road and the dawn, the sun, the wind, and the rain, And the watch fire under stars, and sleep, and the road… — John Masefield Copy Share Image
Life's battle is a conquest for the strong; The meaning shows in the defeated thing. — John Masefield Copy Share Image
Since the printing press came into being, poetry has ceased to be the delight of the whole community of man; it has become the… — John Masefield Copy Share Image
When the last sea is sailed and last shallow charted, When the last field is reaped and the last harvest stored, When the last… — John Masefield Copy Share Image
