" . . . down to the seas . . ."

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

    There is not much running tide, neither wind nor white clouds flying. As for flung spray, blown spume and sea-gulls crying you could say John Masefield did not write his poem after looking at a seascape like this:

    

    

    or this!

   

   
   Nevertheless, we are by the sea - Poole Quay to be exact: less than 15 minutes from our new home and the first time we have been down to the sea since our arrival in November.

    But somehow or other, I get the feeling we really only came down to see a view of a different sort not far from the shore!

I wonder if Mrs Masefield had this uncanny knack of finding such views wherever they went?