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All the great things of life are swiftly done, Creation, death, and love the double gate. However much we dawdle in the sun We have to hurry at the touch of Fate.

John Masefield

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John Masefield
Age: 88 †
Born: 1878
Born: June 1
Died: 1967
Died: May 12
Journalist
Novelist
Poet
Writer
County of Herefordshire
John Edward Masefield
Creation
Gate
Death
Hurry
Done
Double
Great
Gates
Much
Touch
Things
Sun
Love
Fate
Life
However
Swiftly

More quotes by John Masefield

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Death opens unknown doors. It is most grand to die.
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Man's body is faulty, his mind untrustworthy, but his imagination has made him remarkable.
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In the dark room where I began My mother's life made me a man. Through all the months of human birth Her beauty fed my common earth. I cannot see, nor breathe, nor stir, But through the death of some of her.
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On the long dusty ribbon of the long city street, The pageant of life is passing me on multitudinous feet, With a word here of the hills, and a song there of the sea And-the great movement changes-the pageant passes me.
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I hold that when a person dies / His soul returns again to earth / Arrayed in some new flesh disguise / Another mother gives him birth / With sturdier limbs and brighter brain.
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It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills, And April's in the West wind, and daffodils.
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State are not made, nor patched they grow Grow slow through centuries of pain, And grow correctly in the main But only grow by certain laws, Of certain bits in certain jaws.
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I have seen flowers come in stony places And kind things done by men with ugly faces, And the gold cup won by the worst horse at the races, So I trust, too.
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It ought to have gangsters, and aeroplanes and a lot of automatic pistols.
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From '41 to '51I was my folk's contrary sonI bit my father's hand right throughAnd broke my mother's heart in two.
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But he has gone, A nation's memory and veneration, Among the radiant, ever venturing on, Somewhere, with morning, as such spirits will.
John Masefield
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Since the printing press came into being, poetry has ceased to be the delight of the whole community of man it has become the amusement and delight of the few.
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Man with his burning soul Has but an hour of breath To build a ship of Truth In which his soul may sail- Sail on the sea of death. For death takes toll Of beauty, courage, youth, Of all but Truth.
John Masefield
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God dropped a spark down into everyone, And if we find and fan it to a blaze, It'll spring up and glow, like--like the sun, And light the wandering out of stony ways.
John Masefield
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The days that make us happy make us wise
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All I ask is a tall ship and a star to sail her by.
John Masefield
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In this life he laughs longest who laughs last.
John Masefield
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I have seen dawn and sunset on moors and windy hills Coming in solemn beauty like slow old tunes of Spain.
John Masefield
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And may we find when ended is the page, Death but a tavern on our pilgrimage.
John Masefield
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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.
John Masefield