QUINQUIREME of Nineveh from distant Ophir,
\nRowing home to haven in sunny Palestine,
\nWith a cargo of ivory,
\nAnd apes and peacocks,
\nSandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine.<\/p>\n
Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus,
\nDipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores,
\nWith a cargo of diamonds,
\nEmeralds, amythysts,
\nTopazes, and cinnamon, and gold moidores.<\/p>\n
Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack,
\nButting through the Channel in the mad March days,
\nWith a cargo of Tyne coal,
\nRoad-rails, pig-lead,
\nFirewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.<\/p>\n
.<\/span><\/p>\n by John Masefield, 1878-1967<\/p>\n from Ballads and Poems<\/strong><\/em>, 1923<\/p>\n —<\/p>\n On May 24<\/a> I featured Masefield’s poem, The Ballad of Sir Bors<\/strong><\/em>, from the same collection, and quoted Carcanet Press’s bio from their 2005 publication, Sea Fever: Selected Poems of John Masefield<\/strong> (<\/em>ed. Philip Errington):<\/p>\n \u201cJohn Masefield (1878-1967) is one of the great storytellers of English poetry, a spinner of yarns and ballads of tall ships and exotic seas, of the deep-rooted life of the rural England in which he grew up, and of the great narratives of Troy and Arthurian legend. Some included here \u2013 \u2018Sea-Fever\u2019 and \u2018Cargoes\u2019 \u2013 are among the best-loved poems in English \u2026\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n When I first encountered Cargoes<\/em> as a young reader, I loved the romance of the first two stanzas—the “quinquireme of Nineveh” and the “stately Spanish galleon” as well as the sense of adventure redolent in locales such as “distant Ophir” and the hinted at Spanish Main. As a somewhat older reader I felt a far greater appreciation of their juxtaposition with that “dirty British freighter with a salt-caked smoke stack”—and the humorous irony of a cargo of “cheap tin trays” when compared with “apes and peacocks” or “gold moidores.” (Which reminds me, isn’t it international Talk Like A Pirate Day<\/a> very soon?)<\/p>\n —<\/p>\n Over on the Tuesday Poem Hub<\/strong><\/a>, convenor Mary McCallum is marking the tenth anniversary of September 11, 2001 with a clip of New Jersey poet Deborah Garrison<\/a> <\/strong>reading four poems about New York, recorded on a subsequent September 11. Do head on over and check it out.<\/p>\n