The Pelican — Summary

Helena ColemanInspirador

Upon a Western prairie once I met A flock of pelicans — a glorious sight! Now in the sun they gleamed a dazzling white, Now, circling, darkened to a silhouette; Great-breasted things, with sweeping pinions set To rhythmic curves of slow, majestic flight, They rose into the measureless blue height, Undaunted, radiant — I see them yet.

I see them yet ! for when I turn my eyes Beyond these city walls of my despite, Behold their buoyant forms still sweep the skies Like spirits of the air, incarnate, bright, And something untamed in me seems to rise And with them breast those boundless seas of light!

Mostrar el poema completoOcultar el poema

Learn Poems app

Try the Learn Poems app

Everything from the website trainer, and more: new exercises, voice recording and sharing, reminders, quick review.

The speaker recalls a striking encounter with a flock of pelicans on a western prairie: their white bodies flashing in sunlight, then turning dark against the sky as they wheeled in slow, powerful circles. The memory stays vivid even after the speaker has moved to a city that feels confining. Whenever city life presses in, the pelicans return to mind, not as a distant recollection but as bright, living forms sweeping through the sky. They become symbols of freedom and untamed energy. Seeing them in memory stirs something wild in the speaker, who feels lifted beyond the city walls to soar with them into open light. The mood shifts from awe at the birds’ beauty to a quiet, uplifting sense of release and longing. It suggests that a powerful experience of the natural world can stay with us and offer inner escape.

Lee también

Más de Helena Coleman

Todos los poemas
TristeHelena Coleman

The Prospector

LURED by the golden glamor of the West, He crossed the pathless plains and scaled the bold Titanic forms that, rising fold on fold, Touch heaven's blue; and, toiling, strove to wrest
ContemplativoHelena Coleman

The Guardians of the Place

About the old deserted place, So long forsaken and forlorn, There lingers still a touch of grace, A fragrance every year new-born.
TristeHelena Coleman

Postponement

Behind their veils of clinging mist, Elusive as a dream, In changing rose and amethyst The mountains stood supreme.