Philip, the King: And Other PoemsW. Heinemann, 1914 - 117 pages |
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Common terms and phrases
Amen ashore banner barque beat beaten beauty bells bitter blessed blind bows bright brooding burst Calais capstan Captain cheering CLOSED HER EYES crew CRIES cursed dark dawn dead dear death deck defeated died DON JOHN dream drooping drown drum England English ESCOVEDO Father fire Fire-ships fleet fo'c'sle full-rigged ship galleons gannet give gleams glittering glory God's going gone grave guns heard heart hill JOHN MASEFIELD JOHN OF AUSTRIA King Philip Leyva life's Lord lovely manhole masts Mate MESSENGER misery MONKS muttered never night passed pennon Philip the King Pikemen Port Fore praise pride PRINCESS PRISONER RECALDE'S RECALDE'S MEN river's roaring ruin sail sand sandbanks SANTA CRUZ save the King seamen ships shook Silence singing soul Spain Spanish speak spirit stars stood strange strength tell thanks thing thought town trembling tugboat victory VOICES Wanderer watch wind
Popular passages
Page 76 - WHEN I am buried, all my thoughts and acts Will be reduced to lists of dates and facts, And long before this wandering flesh is rotten The dates which made me will be all forgotten ; And none will know the gleam there used to be About the feast days freshly kept by me, But men will call the golden hour of bliss "About this time,
Page 89 - ... never see those proud ones swaying home With mainyards backed and bows a cream of foam, Those bows so lovely-curving, cut so fine, Those coulters of the many-bubbled brine — As once, long since, when all the docks were filled With that sea-beauty man has ceased to build. Yet, though their splendor may have ceased to be, Each played her sovereign part in making me; Now I return my thanks with heart and lips For the great queenliness of all those ships.
Page 74 - If there be any life beyond the grave, It must be near the men and things we love, Some power of quick suggestion how to save. Touching the living soul as from above.
Page 71 - That like to drooping crests their colours hung, Only their shadows trembled without cease. I did but glance upon those anchored ships. Even as my thought had told, I saw her plain; Tense, like a supple athlete with lean hips, Swiftness at pause, the Wanderer come again — Come as of old a queen, untouched by Time, Resting the beauty that no seas could tire, Sparkling, as though the midnight's rain were rime, Like a man's thought transfigured into fire. And as I looked, one of her men began To sing...
Page 79 - So, if the penman sums my London days Let him but say that there were holy ways, Dull Bloomsbury streets of dull brick mansions old With stinking doors where women stood to scold And drunken waits at Christmas with their horn Droning the news, in snow, that Christ was born; And windy gas lamps and the wet roads shining And that old carol of the midnight whining, And that old room (above the noisy slum) Where there was wine and fire and talk with some Under strange pictures of the wakened soul To...
Page 89 - I cannot tell their wonder nor make known Magic that once thrilled through me to the bone, But all men praise some beauty, tell some tale, Vent a high mood which makes the rest seem pale; Pour their heart's blood to flourish one green leaf, Follow some Helen for her gift of grief, And fail in what they mean, whate'er they do: You should have seen, man cannot tell to you The beauty of the ships of that my city. That beauty now is spoiled by the sea's pity; For one may haunt the pier a score of times,...
Page 64 - Down the river! Look!' I looked with them towards the dimness; there Gleamed like a spirit striding out of night A full-rigged ship unutterably fair, Her masts like trees in winter, frosty-bright. Foam trembled at her bows like wisps of wool; She trembled as she towed. I had not dreamed That work of man could be so beautiful, In its own presence and in what it seemed. 'So she is putting back again,' I said. 'How white with frost her yards are on the fore!' One of the men about me answer made, 'That...
Page 85 - Delights of work most real, delights that change The headache life of towns to rapture strange Not known by townsmen, nor imagined; health That puts new glory upon mental wealth And makes the poor man rich. But that ends, too, Health with its thoughts of life; and that bright view That sunny landscape from life's peak, that glory, And all a glad man's comments on life's story And thoughts of marvellous towns and living men And what pens tell and all beyond the pen End, and are summed in words so...
Page 84 - Other bright days of action have seemed great: Wild days in a pampero off the Plate; Good swimming days, at Hog Back or the Coves Which the young gannet and the corbie loves; Surf-swimming between rollers, catching breath Between the advancing grave and breaking death, Then shooting up into the sunbright smooth To watch the advancing roller bare her tooth, And days of labour also, loading, hauling; Long days at winch or capstan, heaving, pawling; The days with oxen, dragging stone from blasting,...
Page 90 - Chepica, a steel-grey lovely barque, Came to an anchor near us on the flood, Her trucks aloft in sun-glow red as blood. Then come so many ships that I could fill Three docks with their fair hulls remembered still, Each with her special memory's special grace, Riding the sea, making the waves give place To delicate high beauty; man's best strength, Noble in every line in all their length.