“With favoring winds, o'er sunlit seas,We sailed for the Hesperides,The land where golden apples grow;But that, ah! that was long ago.How far, since then, the ocean streamsHave swept us from that land of dreams,That land of fiction and of truth,The lost Atlantis of our youth!Whither, ah, whither? Are not theseThe tempest-haunted Orcades,Where sea-gulls scream, and breakers roar,And wreck and sea-weed line the shore?Ultima Thule! Utmost Isle!Here in thy harbors for a whileWe lower our sails; a while we restFrom the unending, endless quest.”

“In imagination she sailed over storied seas that wash the distant shining shores of "faëry lands forlorn," where lost Atlantis and Elysium lie, with the evening star for pilot, to the land of Heart's Desire. And she was richer in those dreams than in realities; for things seen pass away, but the things that are unseen are eternal.”

“The JumbliesIThey went to sea in a Sieve, they did, In a Sieve they went to sea:In spite of all their friends could say,On a winter's morn, on a stormy day, In a Sieve they went to sea!And when the Sieve turned round and round,And every one cried, 'You'll all be drowned!'They called aloud, 'Our Sieve ain't big,But we don't care a button! we don't care a fig! In a Sieve we'll go to sea!' Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. IIThey sailed away in a Sieve, they did,In a Sieve they sailed so fast, With only a beautiful pea-green veilTied with a riband by way of a sail, To a small tobacco-pipe mast;And every one said, who saw them go,'O won't they be soon upset, you know!For the sky is dark, and the voyage is long,And happen what may, it's extremely wrong In a Sieve to sail so fast!' Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. IIIThe water it soon came in, it did, The water it soon came in;So to keep them dry, they wrapped their feetIn a pinky paper all folded neat, And they fastened it down with a pin.And they passed the night in a crockery-jar,And each of them said, 'How wise we are!Though the sky be dark, and the voyage be long,Yet we never can think we were rash or wrong, While round in our Sieve we spin!' Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. IVAnd all night long they sailed away; And when the sun went down,They whistled and warbled a moony songTo the echoing sound of a coppery gong, In the shade of the mountains brown.'O Timballo! How happy we are,When we live in a Sieve and a crockery-jar,And all night long in the moonlight pale,We sail away with a pea-green sail, In the shade of the mountains brown!' Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. VThey sailed to the Western Sea, they did, To a land all covered with trees,And they bought an Owl, and a useful Cart,And a pound of Rice, and a Cranberry Tart, And a hive of silvery Bees.And they bought a Pig, and some green Jack-daws,And a lovely Monkey with lollipop paws,And forty bottles of Ring-Bo-Ree, And no end of Stilton Cheese. Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve. VIAnd in twenty years they all came back, In twenty years or more,And every one said, 'How tall they've grown!For they've been to the Lakes, and the Torrible Zone, And the hills of the Chankly Bore!'And they drank their health, and gave them a feastOf dumplings made of beautiful yeast;And every one said, 'If we only live,We too will go to sea in a Sieve,--- To the hills of the Chankly Bore!' Far and few, far and few, Are the lands where the Jumblies live; Their heads are green, and their hands are blue, And they went to sea in a Sieve.”

“I love to sail forbidden seas, and land on barbarous coasts.”

“To the sea, to the sea! The white gulls are crying,The wind is blowing, and the white foam is flying.West, west away, the round sun is falling, Grey ship, grey ship, do you hear them calling, The voices of my people that have gone before me? I will leave, I will leave the woods that bore me;For our days are ending and our years failing.I will pass the wide waters lonely sailing.Long are the waves on the Last Shore falling,Sweet are the voices in the Lost Isle calling,In Eressea, in Elvenhome that no man can discover,Where the leaves fall not: land of my people forever!”

“Ah! These commercial interests -- spoiling the finest life under the sun. Why must the sea be used for trade -- and for war as well?...It would have been so much nicer just to sail about, with here and there a port and a bit of land to stretch one's legs on, buy a few books and get a change of cooking for a while.”