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Sea Fever
By John Masefield (1878-1967)
I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.
I must 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.
I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.
#Seniorchat mourns the passing of long time member and former presiding founder, "Gabe" Gable.
The "long trick" is over, Gabe, and we wish you "a quiet sleep and a sweet dream."
Your wit and wisdom on the channel, your attendance at the bashes, your "donuts and coffee," your poetry, your friendship, and your love of sailing ... these are your legacy to us and we will cherish these memories. Thank you for sharing a part of your life with us.
My Boat and I
By Bob Gable (1930-2003)
I eased her from the pierside slip
In the early morning light
Motoring the channel to begin the trip
With the rising sun in sight
I turned her head into the wind
I felt the heave of the sea
With all sail hoist and lines to tend
They hummed and sang to me
I turned her free to take the wind
She leaned and cleaved the waves
Regally sweeping around the bend
Bowing and bobbing acknowledging raves
Spume and spray across the bow
A brisk wind fanning my cheek
Splitting asunder each rising wave
Stem bursting it's foamy peak
The taste of salt upon my lips
Sound of a ruffling main
The throb of the tiller in my hand
The sting of the hard flung rain
The sunset bathed the distant clouds
In a soft and pearly light
The wind sang low in the stays and shrouds
Gently soothing the ear and sight
The rising dark turns into night
The stars overfill the sky
My craft and I chase the fading light
Under the moon my boat and I
Robert W. "Bob" Gable Sr.
Robert "Bob" W. Gable Sr., 72, of Richmond went to be with the Lord September 28, 2003. He was preceded in death by his wife of 32 years, Bobbie, and sister, Betty Cooley. Survivors include a daughter, Marian Moody and husband, Sam, of Beaverdam; a son, Robert W. Gable Jr. of Chicago, Ill.; a sister, Beverly Keeble and husband, John, of Newnan, Ga.; four grandchildren, Rebecca Moody, Allison Moody, Brandon Gable, and Nicole Gable; and dear friend, Marion Mathews. Mr. Gable retired from the Navy and then Phillip Morris and was a lifetime member of the VFW Post #6364, the Fraternal Order of Eagles #4211, Lakeside Moose Lodge #1714, and Legion #148. Remains rest at the Mechanicsville chapel of the Bennett Funeral Home, 8014 Lee Davis Rd., where the family will receive friends Tuesday from 7 to 9 p.m. and where funeral services will be held 2:30 p.m. Wednesday with interment to follow in Shiloh United Methodist Church Cemetery. In lieu of flowers, contributions may be made to the American Cancer Society, 4240 Park Place Court, Glen Allen, Va. 23060.
Published in the Richmond Times-Dispatch on 9/30/2003.
This memorial to Gabe was prepared and submitted by Coqui, September 30,
2003
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