Mad March Days: Decode

 

How much mystery can you get into one line of poetry?

 

Here’s a go a the first line of the poem in my previous post. Incidentally, it’s called ‘Cargoes’, is about progress and was written by John Masefield, who was poet laureate in the UK from 1930 until his death in 1967. By all accounts, a very interesting and pleasant man. He went to war (WW1) as a medic, wrote ‘Galllipoli’ (as well as a few fine poems), received honourary doctorates from Yale and Harvard, and kept goats and bees. 

 

Quinquereme - a boat powered by lots of oars – the rhythm of oars is the  rhythm of the first verse. The rhythm of a diesel engine chugging is the rhythm of the last verse. Try it.

Nineveh (also Ninua) –  an “exceeding great city”, as it is called in the Book of Jonah, lay on the eastern bank of the Tigris in ancient Assyria, near the modern-day major city of Mosul, Iraq which lies across the river.  Ophir – a generic name for a place of fantastic wealth, mentioned in the Christian Bible. Fans of H. Rider Haggard may remember it as the location of King Soloman’s mines. 

Mad March days…

My Mother who, thanks to dementia, can’t remember more than one minute of the immediate past, one day recounted this poem in its entirety for our pleasure. It is the product of a great mind, recalled by another now sadly broken one. Just those two things together would do the trick, but the poem is a cracker all by itself…

Quinqueremes of Niniveh, from distant Ophir,
Rowing home to haven in sunny Palestine
with a cargo of ivory, and apes, and peacocks
sandalwood and 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 and amethyst,
topazes and cinnamon and gold moiodores.

Dirty British coaster, with silt-caked smoke stack
Batting through the channel in the mad march  days
With a cargo of Tyne coal, road rails, pig lead,
firewood, ironware and cheap tin trays.

We salute you Mr Masefield, Mum…