Four pelicans went over the house,
Sculled their worn oars over the courtyard: I saw that ungainliness
Magnifies the idea of strength.
A lifting gale of sea-gulls followed them; slim yachts of the
Natural growths of the sky, no wonder
Light wings to leave sea; but those grave weights toil,
And the wings torn with old storms remember
The cone that the oldest redwood dropped from, the tilting
The dinosaur's day, the lift of new sea-lines.
The omnisecular keeps the old with the new also.
Nothing at all has suffered erasure.
There is life not of our time. He calls ungainly bodies
As beautiful as the grace of horses.
He is weary of nothing; he watches air-planes; he watches pelicans.