Sailing poems

[Nostrodamus]

Time for a bit of culture.

Do you have a favourite sailing poem or a few lines from one.

Mine is..

O’er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our souls as free,
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home!

-- lord Byron, from The Corsair

 

[DanTribe]

More suited to funerals than sunny barbecues, but this one always moves me.

"The Unknown Shore"
by Elizabeth Clark Hardy

Sometime at Eve when the tide is low
I shall slip my moorings and sail away
With no response to a friendly hail
In the silent hush of the twilight pale
When the night stoops down to embrace the day
And the voices call in the water's flow
Sometime at Eve When the water is low
I shall slip my moorings and sail away.
Through purple shadows
That darkly trail o'er the ebbing tide
And the Unknown Sea,
And a ripple of waters' to tell the tale
Of a lonely voyager sailing away
To mystic isles
Where at anchor lay
The craft of those who had sailed before
O'er the Unknown Sea
To the Unknown Shore

A few who watched me sail away
Will miss my craft from the busy bay
Some friendly barques were anchored near
Some loving souls my heart held dear
In silent sorrow will drop a tear
But I shall have peacefully furled my sail
In mooring sheltered from the storm and gale
And greeted friends who had sailed before
O'er the Unknown Sea
To the Unknown Shore
- Elizabeth Clark Hardy

 

[Daedelus]

Bit late for Valentine's day but I like it anyway.

A ship is floating in the harbour now,
A wind is hovering o'er the mountain's brow;
There is a path on the sea's azure floor,
No keel has ever ploughed that path before;
The halcyons brood around the foamless isles;
The treacherous Ocean has forsworn its wiles;
The merry mariners are bold and free:
Say, my heart’s sister, wilt thou sail with me?

 

[Rustyknight]

Drake is going west, lads
So Tom is going East
But tiny Fred
Just lies in bed,
The lazy little beast.

 

[Fourbees]

There's always Tennyson (Crossing the Bar)

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.

 

[AndrewB]

Mine is from Tennyson's "Ulysses", suitable for someone like me, getting on in life and forseeing the end of their blue-water cruising but wanting to go one more time ...

The long day wanes: the slow moon climbs: the deep
Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends,
’Tis not to late to seek a newer world.
Push off, and sitting well in order smite
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths
Of all the western stars, until I die.

It may be that the gulfs will wash us down:
It may be we shall touch the Happy Isles,
And see the great Achilles, whom we knew.
Tho’ much is taken, much abides; and tho’
We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

 

[Lakesailor]

A little old man of the sea
Went out in a boat for a sail,
The water came in
Almost up to his chin
And he had nothing which which to bail.

But this little old man of the sea
Just drew out his jackknife so stout,
And a hole with its blade
In the bottom he made,
So that all of the water ran out.

 

[earlybird]

One ship sails east,
and another west,
by the self-same winds that blow.
For it's the set of the sails,
and not the gales, that tells the way we go.

 

[Reverend Ludd]

The boy stood on the burning deck...............I'll get my coat

 

[onesea]

What about - John Masefield

A Wanderer’s Song

A winds in the heart of me, a fires in my heels,
I am tired of brick and stone and rumbling wagon-wheels;
I hunger for the sea’s edge, the limits of the land,
Where the wild winds old Atlantic is shouting on the sand.

Oh I’ll be going, leaving the noise of the street,
To where a lifting foresail-foot is yanking at the sheet;
To a windy, tossing anchorage where yawls and ketches ride,
Oh I’ll be going, going, until I meet the tide.

And first I’ll hear the sea-wind, the mewing of the gulls,
The clucking sucking of the sea about the rusty hulls,
The songs at the capstan at the hooker warping out,
And then the heart of me’ll know I’m there or thereabout.

Oh I am sick of brick and stone, the heart of me is sick,
For windy green unquiet sea, the realm of Moby Dick;
And I’ll be going going, form the roaring of the wheels,
For a wind’s in the heart of me, a fire’s in my heel’s.

 

[doris]

They went to sea in a Sieve, they did,
In a Sieve they went to sea:
In spite of all their friends could say,
On a winter's morn, on a stormy day,
In a Sieve they went to sea!
And when the Sieve turned round and round,
And every one cried, 'You'll all be drowned!'
They called aloud, 'Our Sieve ain't big,
But we don't care a button! we don't care a fig!
In a Sieve we'll go to sea!'



Beats any Benbavjen

 

[Nostrodamus]

River of Life

The young child sat cross-legged looking up to her grandma,
In a puzzled voice she said, “Tell me what you know of life so far?”
The old lady paused briefly and with a smile uttered these words,
“Life my darling starts way up in the sky, above the soaring birds.
Love and dreams are combined at the one moment that’s right,
To create a raindrop of life that shines and glimmers in the light”.

The young child looked upwards with puzzlement and tilted her head,
“If I am that raindrop what becomes of me then?” she slowly said.
The old lady held her arm out and fluttered her wizened old hand,
“With guidance and hope you gently glide down to the land,
As you grow stronger and discover curiosity you start on your way,
Trickling around the rocks of parenthood that guide you each day”.

The young child swayed her body with the journey she saw in her mind,
Then she said “How will I know which way to go and what will I find?”
The old lady considered the question with a frown but not for too long,
“Our paths will be decided by what we believe to be right and wrong.
Others will join and become the unstoppable rivers of teenage years,
Carving through life noisily, fast flowing, undaunted by fears”.

The young child looked down pulling at tufts of rug upon the floor,
“But Grandma” she said “I don’t want to leave you for a river that will roar”
The old lady laughed and moved her hand through the young child’s hair,
“Although you may not see us your family and I will always be there.
We will form the banks that caress you and stop you going astray,
As you get wiser we will give you the freedom and move further away”.

The young child held the hand that comforted her close to her cheek,
“What will happen when the river ends” she said mild and meek.
The old lady looked into herself with a tear that welled in her eye,
“Rivers do not end my dear; they do not grow old or fade and die,
They will join all those they have ever loved or lost just like you and me,
And till the end of time we will be together in a never-ending sea”.

by me

 

[Romeo]

Robert Burns - The Silver Tassie

Just the first verse for you, and I like it as much because it features my local waters as for any other reason. Great first line too.

The Silver Tassie

Go fetch to me a pint o wine,
And fill it in a silver tassie;
That I may drink, before I go,
A service to my bonie lassie:
The boat rocks at the pier o' Leith,
Fu' loud the wind blaws frae the Ferry,
The ship rides by the Berwick-law,
And I maun leave my bony Mary.

 

[Cobra]

Sunset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.

A second vote for 'Crossing the Bar'. It has always been one of my favourite poems and was read out at my fathers funeral by my son.

 

[MissFitz]

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.

When my great-uncle died of cirrhosis they put that on his tombstone.

(Sorry, posted simultaneously with previous post, bad timing & no offence intended.)

 

[Seajet]

Here lie the bones of Mike O'Day,

who died maintaining his right of way;

he was right, dead right, as he sailed along,

but now he's as dead as if he'd been wrong...

 

[LePacha]

To my son

I am standing in the sea shore,
a ship sails to the morning breeze
and starts for the ocean.
She is an object of beauty
and I stand watching her
till at last she fades
on the horizon
and someone at my side says,
‘She is gone.’
Gone! Where?
Gone from my sight--that is all.
She is just as large in the masts, hull and spars
as she was when I saw her,
and just as able to bear her load of living
freight to its destination.
The diminished size and total loss of sight is in me,
not in her;
and just at the moment when someone at my side says,
'she is gone’
there are others who are watching her coming,
and others take up a glad shout
‘There she comes!’ - and that is dying.

by (apparently) Bishop Charles H. Brent

 

[ianat182]

One more to add to the other offering,this one is mine


Clinker built or carvel, in wood or GRP
Varnished, painted, pampered, this other kind of 'she'
Dressed overall a picture, below and up above
Demanding and receiving an undivided love

A classic name adorns her,those curves delight the eye
The love affair between us will last eternally
I believe I am her master-she pretends to acquiesce
So is probably a balance 50/50 more or less

I'll spend a lifetime in defending all her virtues,vices too
Downplaying all the latter as all most lovers do
I enjoy the hours spent with her, our travels on the sea
With those sunrises and sunsets- all absolutely free

Fast lady though I claim she is, and she is in spurts
It takes a good force 4-5 when she really lifts her skirts
If wind permits, her spinnaker adds colours to her dress
Full bodied and curvaceous she speeds like an express.

During visits to the Boat Show if I cast a wayward eye
Upon another painted' lady' as I'm passing by....
Its not that I'm unfaithful, just keeping well in touch
I wouldn't dare to change my 'girl' for even twice as much

We'll both grow old together,taking problems in our stride
For rich, more likely, poorer, but with unbounded pride.

ianat182

 

[PhillM]

Ianat182 - thats a lovely poem. captures excatly how I feel about my mistress.

 

[Clyde_Wanderer]

Here lies the body of old blind John,
The keel struck rocks but John went on.

Beneath these stones lies Mary Jones,
But do not be at wonder,
For these two stones are not the only two stones,
That Mary Jones lay under.

C_W