by Marshall Jamison
John Masefield, master poet of the sea,
and of sailors lives when far off shore,
Knew how it felt to stalk the bridge
on long night hours, twelve to four,
While your shipmates rest below,
secure in well earned sleep
Because they know the midnight watch
is surely yours to keep.
When the moon is shining bright on
the rolling white capped sea
Or when curling, curtaining grey fog
hangs there heavily
Cutting off the view of much you strain to see.
Any panic that is present disappears in
To the Watcher who protects and comforts
To meet the late night’s challenge is
the mates’ proud regimen
And night after night he gladly greets
his duty to his fellow men.