Sidney Lanier

“ Gray Pelican, poised where yon broad shallows shine,
Know’st thou, that finny foison all is mine
In the bag below thy beak—yet thine, not less?
For God, of His most gracious friendliness,
Hath wrought that every soul, this loving morn,
Into all things may be new-corporate born,
And each live whole in all: I sail with thee,
Thy Pelican’s self is mine ”

“ Self of my self. Lo, through my sense doth steal
Clear cognizance of all selves and qualities,
Of all existence that hath been or is,
Of all strange haps that men miscall of chance,
And all the works of tireless circumstance:
Each borders each, like mutual sea and shore,
Nor aught misfits his neighbor that’s before,
Nor him that’s after—nay, through this still air,
Out of the North come quarrels, and keen blare
Of challenge by the hot-breath’d parties blown ”