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    Dauber. A Poem: 'Down sank the crimson sun into the sea''
    Dauber. A Poem: 'Down sank the crimson sun into the sea''
    Dauber. A Poem: 'Down sank the crimson sun into the sea''
    Ebook76 pages1 hour

    Dauber. A Poem: 'Down sank the crimson sun into the sea''

    By John Masefield

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    About this ebook

    John Edward Masefield was born in 1878 in the sleepy market town of Ledbury in rural Hertfordshire.

    An idyllic childhood was ruined when he was left an orphan and sent to live with an Aunt who decided his education and life would be better spent at sea. At age 13 he boarded a school ship and there his love of writing and reading blossomed.

    By 1899 he began to publish and apart from brief service during World War I he now had a life of writing and lecture tours. He published much; novels, poetry and even an account of the disastrous war effort in the Dardanelles at Gallipoli.

    Upon the death of Robert Bridges in 1930, Masefield was given the prestigious position of Poet Laureate, a role he would fulfill until his death; the only poet to hold the position for a longer period was Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

    Despite later ill health and the death of his wife in 1960, Masefield continued to write. In 1966, he published his last book of poems, In Glad Thanksgiving, at the age of 88.

    In the latter part of 1966 gangrene was diagnosed in his ankle. This gradually spread through his leg and claimed his life on May 12th, 1967. He was cremated and his ashes placed in the Poet’s Corner of Westminster Abbey.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherPortable Poetry
    Release dateJan 20, 2019
    ISBN9781787803770
    Dauber. A Poem: 'Down sank the crimson sun into the sea''
    Author

    John Masefield

    John Masefield was a well-known English poet and novelist. After boarding school, Masefield took to a life at sea where he picked up many stories, which influenced his decision to become a writer. Upon returning to England after finding work in New York City, Masefield began publishing his poetry in periodicals, and then eventually in collections. In 1915, Masefield joined the Allied forces in France and served in a British army hospital there, despite being old enough to be exempt from military service. After a brief service, Masefield returned to Britain and was sent overseas to the United States to research the American opinion on the war. This trip encouraged him to write his book Gallipoli, which dealt with the failed Allied attacks in the Dardanelles, as a means of negating German propaganda in the Americas. Masefield continued to publish throughout his life and was appointed as Poet Laureate in 1930. Masefield died in 1967 the age of 88.

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      Book preview

      Dauber. A Poem - John Masefield

      Dauber: A Poem by John Masefield

      John Edward Masefield was born in 1878 in the sleepy market town of Ledbury in rural Hertfordshire.

      An idyllic childhood was ruined when he was left an orphan and sent to live with an Aunt who decided his education and life would be better spent at sea. At age 13 he boarded a school ship and there his love of writing and reading blossomed.

      By 1899 he began to publish and apart from brief service during World War I he now had a life of writing and lecture tours. He published much; novels, poetry and even an account of the disastrous war effort in the Dardanelles at Gallipoli.

      Upon the death of Robert Bridges in 1930, Masefield was given the prestigious position of Poet Laureate, a role he would fulfill until his death; the only poet to hold the position for a longer period was Alfred, Lord Tennyson.

      Despite later ill health and the death of his wife in 1960, Masefield continued to write. In 1966, he published his last book of poems, In Glad Thanksgiving, at the age of 88.

      In the latter part of 1966 gangrene was diagnosed in his ankle. This gradually spread through his leg and claimed his life on May 12th, 1967. He was cremated and his ashes placed in the Poet’s Corner of Westminster Abbey.

      Index of Contents

      Note

      DAUBER

      John Masefield – A Short Biography

      John Masefield – A Concise Bibliography

      NOTE

      The persons and events described in this poem are entirely imaginary, and no reference is made or intended to any living person.

      DAUBER

      Four bells were struck, the watch was called on deck,

      All work aboard was over for the hour,

      And some men sang and others played at check,

      Or mended clothes or watched the sunset glower.

      The bursting west was like an opening flower,

      And one man watched it till the light was dim,

      But no one went across to talk to him.

      He was the painter in that swift ship's crew—

      Lampman and painter—tall, a slight-built man,

      Young for his years, and not yet twenty-two;

      Sickly, and not yet brown with the sea's tan.

      Bullied and damned at since the voyage began,

      Being neither man nor seaman by his tally,

      He bunked with the idlers just abaft the galley.

      His work began at five; he worked all day,

      Keeping no watch and having all night in.

      His work was what the mate might care to say;

      He mixed red lead in many a bouilli tin;

      His dungarees were smeared with paraffin.

      Go drown himself his round-house mates advised him,

      And all hands called him Dauber and despised him.

      Si, the apprentice, stood beside the spar,

      Stripped to the waist, a basin at his side,

      Slushing his hands to get away the tar,

      And then he washed himself and rinsed and dried;

      Towelling his face, hair-towzelled, eager-eyed,

      He crossed the spar to Dauber, and there stood

      Watching the gold of heaven turn to blood.

      They stood there by the rail while the swift ship

      Tore on out of the tropics, straining her sheets,

      Whitening her trackway to a milky strip,

      Dim with green bubbles and twisted water-meets,

      Her clacking tackle tugged at pins and cleats,

      Her great sails bellied stiff, her great masts leaned:

      They watched how the seas struck and burst and greened.

      Si talked with Dauber, standing by the side.

      Why did you come to sea, painter? he said.

      I want to be a painter, he replied,

      "And know the sea and ships from A to Z,

      And paint great ships at sea before I'm dead;

      Ships under skysails running down the Trade—

      Ships and the sea; there's nothing finer made.

      "But there's so much to learn, with sails and ropes,

      And how the sails look, full or being furled,

      And how the lights change in the troughs and slopes,

      And the sea's colours up and down the world,

      And how a storm looks when the sprays are hurled

      High as the yard (they say) I want to see;

      There's none ashore can teach such things to me.

      "And then the men and rigging, and the way

      Ships move, running or beating, and the poise

      At the roll's end, the checking in the sway—

      I want to paint them perfect, short of the noise;

      And then the life, the half-decks full of boys,

      The fo'c'sles with the men there, dripping wet.

      I know the subjects that I want to get.

      "It's not been done, the sea, not yet been done,

      From the inside, by one who really knows;

      I'd give up all if I could be the one,

      But art comes dear the way the money goes.

      So I have come to sea, and I suppose

      Three years will teach me all I want to learn

      And make enough to keep me till I earn."

      Even as he spoke his busy pencil moved,

      Drawing the leap of water off the side

      Where the great clipper trampled iron-hooved,

      Making the blue hills of the sea divide,

      Shearing a glittering scatter in her stride,

      And leaping on full tilt with all sails drawing,

      Proud

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