Crossing the bar

#1
I'm doing some work on HMS Repulse and found this poem on their website, rather nice for any seafarer or lover of the sea:


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 though 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.

Alfred Tennyson



GR
x
 
#3
Like this one too

Sea-Fever

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 wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea's face, and a gray 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 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
 
#4
To add a disrespectful note to what is a very humbling and tasteful thread, I've invited Blair and all his cronies to my funeral to dance on my grave - 12 miles south of the Eddystone..........
 

OldJenny

Lantern Swinger
#6
hobbit said:
Like this one too

Sea-Fever

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 wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea's face, and a gray 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 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
One of my favourites
 
#7
golden_rivet said:
I'm doing some work on HMS Repulse and found this poem on their website, rather nice for any seafarer or lover of the sea:


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 though 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.

Alfred Tennyson

Read last night that this 'bar' refers to the one at Salcombe in North Devon which you can only cross at certain tide times.
Lord Tenyson visited there often.

GR
x
 
#8
hobbit said:
Like this one too

Sea-Fever

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 wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a gray mist on the sea's face, and a gray 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 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.


I'm not sure if the words are quite correct.

I thought it was :

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
I left my shoes and socks there, I wonder if they're dry. :thumright:





John Masefield
 
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