10 of the Best Poems about the Sea

The best poems about seafaring selected by Dr Oliver Tearle

What are the greatest sea poems? We’ve scoured the oceans of verse to bring you these ten classic seafaring poems, covering over a thousand years of English-language poetry. So if you’re ready to take to the sea, we’ll begin…

1. Anonymous, ‘The Seafarer’.

This 124-line poem is often considered an elegy, since it appears to be spoken by an old sailor looking back on his life and preparing for death. He discusses the solitariness of a life on the waves, the cold, the danger, and the hardships. As such, the poem captures the bewitching fascination the sea holds for us, but also its darker, more unpredictable side. Ezra Pound produced a loose translation of the poem in the early twentieth century.

2. Edmund Spenser, from Amoretti LXXV.

One day I wrote her name upon the strand,
But came the waves and washed it away:
Again I wrote it with a second hand,
But came the tide, and made my pains his prey.
‘Vain man,’ said she, ‘that dost in vain assay,
A mortal thing so to immortalize;
For I myself shall like to this decay,
And eke my name be wiped out likewise.’

One of the earliest sonnet sequences written in English, Amoretti dates from the mid-1580s and features this fine sonnet about the poet’s seemingly vain attempt to immortalise his beloved’s name by writing it on the sand at the beach – the tide comes in, and the name is washed away. Spenser is more famous for writing the vast (and unfinished) epic poem The Faerie Queene, but as this poem demonstrates, he also helped to pioneer the English sonnet during the Elizabethan era.

3. William Shakespeare, ‘Full Fathom Five’.

Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them—Ding-dong, bell.

More properly known as Ariel’s song from The Tempest, ‘Full fathom five thy father lies’ is about Ferdinand’s father, who is believed to have been the victim of a shipwreck and lie at the bottom of the ocean.

One of Shakespeare’s most famous songs, and much parodied and pastiched, ‘Full Fathom Five’ from The Tempest is sung by the fairy Ariel to the young Ferdinand, to tell him that his father is apparently dead and lying thirty feet below, at the bottom of the ocean, following the tempest of the play’s title and the ensuing shipwreck. You can listen to this Shakespeare song being sung here.

4. Samuel Taylor Coleridge, ‘The Rime of the Ancient Mariner’.

The Sun now rose upon the right:
Out of the sea came he,
Still hid in mist, and on the left
Went down into the sea.

And the good south wind still blew behind,
But no sweet bird did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the mariner’s hollo!

And I had done a hellish thing,
And it would work ’em woe:
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow …

Is this the greatest English poem about a sea-voyage? Coleridge’s friend and collaborator was sceptical about its merits, and toyed with removing it from subsequent editions of their landmark collection Lyrical Ballads (1798). Yet this story of a mariner and his crew, who suffer terrible misfortunes after they ill-advisedly kill an albatross, has become a classic long narrative poem and one of the defining poems of the English Romantic movement. In Watchet in Somerset, there is a statue of the Ancient Mariner, marking the place where Coleridge conceived of the idea for the poem.

5. Emily Dickinson, ‘I started Early – Took my Dog’.

I started Early – Took my Dog –
And visited the Sea –
The Mermaids in the Basement
Came out to look at me –

And Frigates – in the Upper Floor
Extended Hempen Hands –
Presuming Me to be a Mouse –
Aground – upon the Sands –

But no Man moved Me – till the Tide
Went past my simple Shoe –
And past my Apron – and my Belt
And past my Bodice – too –

And made as He would eat me up –
As wholly as a Dew
Upon a Dandelion’s Sleeve –
And then – I started – too …

So begins this poem by the wonderfully idiosyncratic poet Emily Dickinson, about a trip to the seaside. But when is the sea not the sea? When it’s a symbol for carnal longings – as this poem appears to be. Dickinson is using the sea as a metaphor for the (female) speaker’s sensual awakening: note the mermaids, which came out from the basement (the sea’s bed, or the subconscious?) to look at the speaker.

6. A. E. Housman, ‘Smooth between sea and land’.

This little-known gem of a poem picks up on the motif present in Spenser’s sonnet mentioned above: what should the poet write on the sand for future generations to read? Nothing – for it will not last, and ‘the confounding main’ will wash over it and erase any sign that anyone had written something there.

The theme of writing something in the sand at the coast, in the vain hope that it will endure long after the writer has died, is an old one, as the Spenser poem above demonstrates. But in Spenser’s poem, the poet ended with the reassuring thought of immortality and the existence of God. Housman, who became an atheist while he was still a teenager, can off no such consolation here. Unlike W. B. Yeats in ‘Lapis Lazuli’, where the poet sees the robustness of civilisation embodied by the rebuilding of culture and societies over different historical periods, Housman emphasises the ultimate futility of building empires or making anything.

Shall it be Troy or Rome
I fence against the foam,
Or my own name, to stay
When I depart for aye?

Nothing: too near at hand,
Planing the figure sand,
Effacing clean and fast
Cities not built to last
And charms devised in vain,
Pours the confounding main.

Read the full poem by clicking the link above.

7. John Masefield, ‘Sea-Fever’.

One of the most famous sea poems in English literature, ‘Sea-Fever’ was published in 1902 in Masefield’s collection Salt-Water Ballads, when the poet was in his mid-twenties. Although its opening line is most familiar as ‘I must go down to the sea again’, it began life in its 1902 incarnation as the slightly odder ‘I must down to the seas again’.

8. H. D., ‘Oread’.

The critic Glenn Hughes called Hilda Doolittle or ‘H. D.’ the perfect Imagist, since her poetry brilliantly encapsulated the short, precise images that were at the heart of the short-lived Imagist movement led by Ezra Pound in the second decade of the twentieth century. ‘Oread’ takes its name from the nymph of the mountains and pine trees, and is presumably spoken by this land-nymph, which calls upon the sea to ‘whirl up’ and cover the rocks with its ‘pools of fir’. A love poem – perhaps even an erotic poem.

9. T. S. Eliot, ‘The Dry Salvages’.

The third of Eliot’s Four Quartets, ‘The Dry Salvages’ – although it sounds like a most unwatery poem – actually takes its name from les trois sauvages, a group of rocks off Cape Ann in Massachusetts. The five sections of the poem offer various meditations on water – look out in particular for the tour de force that is Eliot’s take on the sestina form at the beginning of the second section.

10. Philip Larkin, ‘To the Sea’.

Although he’s often thought of as a somewhat gloomy poet, Larkin (1922-85) had his tenderer, more celebratory moments too, such as in this, the opening poem from his 1974 collection High Windows, describing the annual ritual of the British family seaside holiday.

For more classic poetry, we recommend The Oxford Book of English Verse – perhaps the best poetry anthology on the market (we offer our pick of the best poetry anthologies here). Discover more great poems with these great poems about secrets, these classic poems about holidays and vacations, our pick of the best football poems, and these classic nature poems. For a change of pace, see our review of a superb collection of hilariously bad poetry by the great and good.

The author of this article, Dr Oliver Tearle, is a literary critic and lecturer in English at Loughborough University. He is the author of, among others, The Secret Library: A Book-Lovers’ Journey Through Curiosities of History and The Great War, The Waste Land and the Modernist Long Poem.

Image: Seaside Oregon United States (picture credit: Apollomelos, 2005), via Wikimedia Commons.


  1. They are all masterpieces. I was expecting one of the Pablo Neruda’s many poems about the sea.

    When I see the sea once more
    will the sea have seen or not seen me ?

    Why do the waves ask me
    the same questions I ask them ?

    And why do they strike the rock
    with so much wasted passion ?

    Don’t they get tired of repeating
    their declaration to the sand ?

  2. Oooh. I love seafaring novels so thank you thank you for the seafaring poem suggestions!

  3. There is also Betjamen’s lovely sea-side poem full of nostagia for a forgotten, or never-experienced childhood:


    We used to picnic where the thrift
    Grew deep and tufted to the edge;
    We saw the yellow foam flakes drift
    In trembling sponges on the ledge
    Below us, till the wind would lift
    Them up the cliff and o’er the hedge.
    Sand in the sandwiches, wasps in the tea,
    Sun on our bathing dresses heavy with the wet,
    Squelch of the bladder-wrack waiting for the sea,
    Fleas around the tamarisk, an early cigarette.

    From where the coastguard houses stood
    One used to see below the hill,
    The lichened branches of a wood
    In summer silver cool and still;
    And there the Shade of Evil could
    Stretch out at us from Shilla Mill.
    Thick with sloe and blackberry, uneven in the light,
    Lonely round the hedge, the heavy meadow was remote,
    The oldest part of Cornwall was the wood as black as night,
    And the pheasant and the rabbit lay torn open at the throat.

    But when a storm was at its height,
    And feathery slate was black in rain,
    And tamarisks were hung with light
    And golden sand was brown again,
    Spring tide and blizzard would unite
    And sea come flooding up the lane.
    Waves full of treasure then were roaring up the beach,
    Ropes round our mackintoshes, waders warm and dry,
    We waited for the wreckage to come swirling into reach,
    Ralph, Vasey, Alistair, Biddy, John and I.

    Then roller into roller curled
    And thundered down the rocky bay,
    And we were in a water world
    Of rain and blizzard, sea and spray,
    And one against the other hurled
    We struggled round to Greenaway.
    Blesséd be St Enodoc, blesséd be the wave,
    Blesséd be the springy turf, we pray, pray to thee,
    Ask for our children all happy days you gave
    To Ralph, Vasey, Alistair, Biddy, John and me.