I’ve been writing happily for the last few weeks but not very efficiently for my Inn, mostly because I’ve been finding it difficult to allocate my time properly. I work on my stories, or I write in a journal, or I write letters to my friends, and sometimes I forget to write on here. So today, even though I don’t have enough time at the moment to write anything much, I thought I would pass on a small poem, the second of the twelve I am attempting to learn by heart this year.
It’s called Cargoes, by John Masefield:Quinquireme of Nineveh from distant Ophir Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine, With a cargo of ivory, And apes and peacocks, Sandalwood, cedarwood, and sweet white wine. Stately Spanish galleon coming from the Isthmus, Dipping through the Tropics by the palm-green shores, With a cargo of diamonds, Emeralds, amethysts, Topazes, and cinnamon and gold moidores. Dirty British coaster with a salt-caked smoke stack Butting through the Channel in the mad March days, With a cargo of Tyne coal, Road-rail, pig-lead, Firewood, iron-ware, and cheap tin trays.