like the hunter’s moon that sails tonight in its high clouds,

casting light into our black harbour,

where four black turf boats

tug at their ropes,

hunger for the islands.

Moya Cannon

Strawberries and the Sailing Ship

We sat on the top of the cliff

Overlooking the open sea

Our backs turned to the little town

Each of us had a basket of strawberries

We had just bought them from a dark woman

With quick eyes – berry-finding eyes

They’re fresh picked said she from our own garden

The tips of her fingers were stained a bright red!

Heavens what strawberries

Each one was the finest

The perfect berry – the strawberry Absolute

The fruit of our childhood!

The very air came fanning

On strawberry wings

And down below, in the pools

Little children were bathing

With strawberry faces.

Over the blue swinging water

A three masted sailing ship

With nine ten eleven sails

Wonderfully beautifully!

She came riding

As though every sail were taking its fill

of the sun and the light.

And Oh! how I’d love to be on board said Anne.

The captain was below, but the crew lay about

Idle and handsome –

Have some strawberries we said

Slipping and sliding on the polished decks

And shaking the baskets.

Katherine Mansfield

The Sea-Shore

I should like to dwell where the deep blue sea

Rock’d to and fro as tranquilly,

As if it were willing the halcyon’s nest

Should shelter through summer its beautiful guest.

When a plaining murmur like that of a song,

And a silvery line come the waves along:

Now bathing – now leaving the gentle shore,

Where shining sea-shells lay scattered o’er.

And children wandering along the strand,

With the eager eye and the busy hand,

Heaping the pebbles and green sea-weed,

Like treasures laid up for a time of need.

Or tempting the waves with their daring feet,

To launch, perhaps, some tiny fleet:

Mimicking those which bear afar

The wealth of trade – and the strength of war.

I should love, when the sun-set reddened the foam,

To watch the fisherman’s boat come home,

With his well-filled net and glittering spoil:

Well has the noon-tide repaid its toil.

While the ships that lie in the distance away

Catch on their canvas the crimsoning ray,

Like fairy ships in the tales of old,

When the sails they spread were purple and gold.

Then the deep delight of the starry night,

With its shadowy depths and dreamy light:

When far away spreads the boundless sea,

As if it imagined infinity.

Let me hear the winds go singing by,

Lulling the waves with their melody:

While the moon like a mother watches their sleep,

And I ask no home but beside the deep.

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

It’s the Sea I Want

It’s the sea I want,

Make no mistake,

Not the resorts

With boardinghouses

Pressed together and shivering,

Praying for sun

And central heating –

It’s the sea I want,

The whole boiling,

Destructive, disruptive, sterilising –