[Gail White]

This poem was one of my childhood favorites. I think Masefield is underrated today because he's not obscure enough for the fancy-pants critics. He wrote some splendid long narratives, such as "The Daffodil Fields."

[Patrick Foley]

Originally Posted by Bill Carpenter

Masefield spent his teen years on ships. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Masefield

Thanks, Bill. That's good to know. Taking the narrator as someone who really has been to sea helps.

A couple other things that occurred to me on the way to work:

What a different poem it would be without the ending--in contrast to the lonely sea mentioned at the beginning, we have the fellowship and camaraderie of the ending with the fellow rover. The world may be just as hostile at sea as not, but out there you don't face it alone, and maybe the narrator feels like he's facing his present land-bound troubles alone.

And then there's the sleep. Someone who's done good hard manual labor in the fresh air will miss the sound untroubled sleep such a lifestyle often brings with it. First time I read it, I almost wondered if that sleep wasn't what the narrator most wanted--you can just picture him older now, more sedentary, his life so much more complicated than it used to be, and unable to sleep, or at least not to sleep as he did when was younger and went to sea. He says he wants to go to sea, but what he wants is everything he remembers from that time in his life.

Also, it's hard not to hear "when the long trick's over" as the end of the narrator's life. So the narrator longs for his old life, longs for it at least one last time before he dies, longs to die with the sort of contentment he felt in earlier days. That's a pretty powerful feeling to me.

The more I read it, the more I like it, despite the signs of age. It feels like an honest and even a brave statement, said as well as he could say it.

*** I see now there were other posts while I was at work, and I seem to be repeating some of what David, Julie and Charlotte have said. Ah well...

On the word "trick"--I treated it as seaman slang I happen never to have heard, something like "hitch" for the military. I haven't checked to see if it's true. ("Trick" shows up in some odd job-related usages, as I'm sure we all know.)

Pat

[David Rosenthal]

Originally Posted by Jesse Anger

This is brilliant:

there's so little content, and what's there is so vague, that the poem becomes a vessel for readers to pour their own lives into it.

I would love this comment myself if it were applied to a poem that grabbed me more. But, I must report that Bob's comments have mostly spoken for me. I think I can understand why this poem has struck others so well, but it doesn't do the same for me.

David R.

[John Beaton]

It took me a while, but I've just read Masefield's "Dauber" as cited by Bill Carpenter. What a wonderful poem! Thanks greatly, Bill.

John

[John Whitworth]

Thank you, Marcia. The version I learned is the one without 'go'. I like it much better. Away with 'go'.

[R. Nemo Hill]

Yes, thanks, Bill. I've read half and bookmarked the rest for later.

Nemo

[Duncan Gillies MacLaurin]

My Oxford Reference Dictionary tells me that "trick" is "a nautical term for a sailor's turn at the helm, usually two hours".

I do like this poem, perhaps mostly for its rhythm, and I'd like to assure Lance that there is at least one contemporary poet who has the seven-beat line as a resource. The ballad metre is what I started with, and I return to it regularly. Here's one I wrote just last summer:

0There’s a thin slice of lemon
0that’s waltzing through heaven;
our scholars have named it the moon.
0I can warmly pursue it
0and try to review it,
but nothing can match this new tune.

0 There’s a faraway island
0 that glows like a diamond;
a planet, they say, not a star.
0 I can slowly explore it
0 and try to restore it,
but words aren’t a patch on guitar.

0 There’s this lad at the harbour
0 who’s shy of the barber;
his hair tends to tickle his knees.
0 He’s the kind of musician
0 who borrows your kitchen
with never a thank-you or please.

0 Well, we met by the bunkers
0 last summer, two drunkards
pretending the night was yet young.
0 I was strumming my glories.
0 He said: “These here stories
would sound even better if sung.”

0 Well, at first I was wary;
0 the prospect was scary.
Would this mean I’d have to sing lead?
0 But I’ve lost all my scruples
0 as one of his pupils.
I’m high on the will to succeed.

0 There’s a thin slice of lemon
0 that’s waltzing through heaven;
our scholars have named it the moon.
0 I can always construe it
0 and try to see through it,
but nothing can match this new tune.

0 There’s a faraway island
0 that glows like a diamond;
a planet, they say, not a star.
0 I can slowly explore it
0 and try to restore it,
but words aren’t a patch on guitar.

I was interested in Jean's comment about "Sea Fever" often having been put to music. I can't share her enthusiasm for the Beach version, nor any of the others I found on You Tube, so I'm attempting to set it to a new melody.

Duncan