The call of the sea is not a common one, but only for those that the great waters of the earth have chosen. John Masefield is no exception, for the call is indescribably great and has left him with no further options. He is resolute to return back to the life at the seas that awaits him on the foamy shores. Away from the crowded human settlements of the towns and cities, the poet, longs to be sailing on watery surroundings of the lonely seas and under the quiet sky. The heart of this great sailor wishes for a well built and a formidable ship to sail on and a shiny star in the dark skies to act as a marine’s guide. The adventurous journey will soon begin the strong breeze blowing to shake the massive white sails of the ship and cause the vibration of the ship’s steering mechanism to move to the desired direction. Each day he would wake up at the early break of dawn and see the early grey mist rise from the surface of the sea.
The poet expresses his overwhelming need to go back to the seas as the powerful call of the rushing tide is a wild and untamed call that can no longer be denied or be ignored. At this point of time, he wishes for the strong winds of the sea to blow throughout the day and shake the thick white clouds above. Thus, ensuring the continuous sailing of the ship through the rough seas. Watching the ship closely from the shores fills his heart with a high spirit of adventure, to see the thick foam tossed violently by the waves and the sea bubbles blow up to the atmosphere. The loud cries of the seagulls add to his high spirit of adventure.
The final resolution of the poet to leave for the seas and lead a life of a wandering gypsy without a permanent home settlement, keeps the poet focused on the shoreline flight of the sea gulls and the watery paths of the whale, and feel the chill of the strong wind like a wet sharpened knife. Before calling off the day at the sea, and conclude it to a goodnight’s rest, the poet would spend a few moments of the late evening to listen to the tales of his fellow sailors. The bed of the sailor’s cabin would pull him quietly into the realms of sweet dreams till the turn at the helms gets over.