I’ve chosen John Masefield’s “Trade Winds” this week for a friend of mine who is sailing the Spanish seas this week.
In the harbour, in the island, in the Spanish Seas,
John Masefield (1878—1967)
Are the tiny white houses and the orange-trees,
And day-long, night-long, the cool and pleasant breeze
Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.
Poem 333. Trade Winds
In the harbour, in the island, in the Spanish Seas,
Are the tiny white houses and the orange-trees,
And day-long, night-long, the cool and pleasant breeze
Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.
There is the red wine, the nutty Spanish ale,
The shuffle of the dancers, the old salt’s tale,
The squeaking fiddle, and the soughing in the sail
Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.
And o’ nights there’s fire-flies and the yellow moon,
And in the ghostly palm-trees the sleepy tune
Of the quiet voice calling me, the long low croon
Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.
As we’ve seen already with “A Valediction” and “Sea Fever” John Masefield was a master at evoking the sailor’s life. In this poem he visualises the sights and sounds of the Spanish Seas where the trade winds blow.
The poem has three stanzas, each of which has four lines: the first three lines rhyme and the fourth line is “Of the steady Trade Winds blowing.”
We begin with a harbour on an island and Masefield shows us the houses and the orange trees standing out against the cliffs and we can almost feel the cooling soft breezes from the sea driven by the trade winds, day and night.
The next stanza gives us some other senses: the taste of the wine and the nuttiness of the ale, the sound of the dancers, the muttering of the old sailor telling his story (perhaps it is an ancient mariner), the strains of the violin and the sound of the sails moving with the breeze.
The last stanza brings us the scene once dusk has fallen: the miniature torches of the fire-flies set against the disk of the moon, and the wind in the pale stems of palm trees providing a soft lulling strain that nonetheless bids the sailor to return to the sea and the trade winds.
I assume that Masefield was referring to the Canaries—the only Spanish islands in the latitudes where the trade winds blow as far as I know. He paints an amazing picture in just nine lines (if you omit the repeated last line), giving us the sights, sounds, scents and savours of the Spanish islands but emphasising the perpetual presence of the easterly winds by the repeated last line.
I like this poem because the description is so good despite its brevity.
There are not many readings of this poem to be found, but it was set to music along with two other poems from Masefield’s collection Salt-Water Ballads. Liam Neely’s performance is the best spoken version, since it’s voiced by a real person rather than apparently feeding the text to Siri or Alexa.
I hope Kaja enjoys her cruise.