The answer to your question can be found in John Masefield ’s poem “The West Wind,” as well as in his biography. Masefield (1878–1967) was English, but his work and travels aboard ships (which began very early in his life) took him to many parts of the world—some very far...
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and exotic. Masefield was orphaned at a young age, and his longing for places that feel comforting and like “home” is an underlying theme that we find in some of his work.
Masefield’s native land, England, is part of Western Europe. This part of the world has long been generally referred to as part of “the West.” As in his famous poem “Sea Fever,” Masefield’s longing for a particular place and experience comes through vividly in “West Wind.” Let’s have a closer look at why the reader is able to tell from this poem that Masefield is from the West.
Stanzas 3, 4, and 5 are spoken by the anthropomorphized West Wind, who entreats the narrator to come “home” again, reminding him of the beauty and familiar comforts of a land alive with springtime. Note that the West Wind addresses the narrator as “brother,” which tenderly expresses the sense of family and welcome that the West represents to the poet, especially at a particular time of the year.
“Will ye not come home, brother? Ye have long been away,
It’s April, and blossom time, and white is in the may,
And bright is the sun brother, and warm is the rain,—
Will ye not come home, brother, home to us again?“The young corn is green, brother, where the rabbits run,
It’s blue sky and white clouds, and warm rain and sun.
It’s song to a man’s soul, brother, fire to a man’s brain,
To hear the wild bees and see the merry spring again.“Larks are singing in the west, brother, above the green wheat,
So will ye not come home, brother, and rest your tired feet?
I’ve a balm for bruised hearts, brother, sleep for aching eyes,”
Says the warm wind, the west wind, full of birds’ cries.
The reader may imagine that the narrator is far from home, thinking about where to go and what to do next. After the West Wind speaks to him, his answer becomes clear. We find this in the final stanza:
It’s the white road westwards is the road I must tread
To the green grass, the cool grass, and rest for heart and head,
To the violets, and the warm hearts, and the thrushes’ song,
In the fine land, the west land, the land where I belong.