John Masefield

"Out beyond the sunset, could I but find the way, Is a sleepy blue laguna which widens to a bay, And theres the Blessed City -- so the sailors say -- The Golden City of St. Mary."

"I, who am dead, have ways of knowing Of the crop of death that the quick are sowing. I, who was Pompey, cry it aloud From the dark of death, from the wind blowing. I, who was Pompey, once was proud, Now I lie in the sand without a shroud; I cry to Caesar out of my pain, "Caesar beware, your death is vowed."

"The moon came white and ghostly as we laid the treasure down, There was gear there’d make a beggarman as rich as Lima Town, Copper charms and silver trinkets from the chests of Spanish crews, Gold doubloons and double moidores, louis d’ors and portagues"

"Its 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 Aprils in the west wind, and daffodils."

"Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir, Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine, With a cargo of ivory, And apes and peacocks, Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine."

"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."

"In the dark womb where I began My mothers 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."

"And in the ghostly palm-trees the sleepy tune Of the quiet voice calling me, the long low croon Of the steady Trade Winds blowing."

"Will you not come home, brother? you have been long away, Its April, and blossom time, and white is the spray; And bright is the sun, brother, and warm is the rain, - Will you not come home, brother, home to us again?"

"Oh some are fond of Spanish wine, and some are fond of French, And some’ll swallow tay and stuff fit only for a wench; But I’m for right Jamaica till I roll beneath the bench, Says the old bold mate of Henry Morgan."

"My blood did leap, my flesh did revel, Saul Kane was tokened to the devil."

"Then watchers of the life of man will know How spirits quickened in this ended reign, Till what was centuries stagnant gan to flow And what was centuries fettered moved again; How with this Ruler entered into rest The countrys very self from slumber stirred, To charity as guide and hope as guest And ventured to a nobler marching word."