Passing The Mail
This shows the mail being passed, by buoy, off the coast of Brasil It will have been about the 1900s.
It is inspired by an image I saw in a child's book published in the early 1900s. Don't laugh ... :-)
Whenever I do something like this I try to imagine the visitors who pass this way and who, with infinite kindness, comment on my postings.
For the ladies I imagine you on the ship in your exquisite robes, fragrant perfume - naturally wearing a hat that you may take tea with the queen.
What life do we wish? To sit at plastic keyboards looking at burning, phosphorescent screens?
Do we look for a life at sea, the heave of the ocean, the warm blush of a tropical sun?
Do we yearn for the movement of a ship's deck ... ?
I must 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 grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must 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 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.
By John Masefield (1878-1967).
(English Poet Laureate, 1930-1967.)