Aurora Emily Dickinson

Of bronze and blaze
   The north, to-night!
   So adequate its forms,
So preconcerted with itself,
   So distant to alarms, —
An unconcern so sovereign
   To universe, or me,
It paints my simple spirit
   With tints of majesty,
Till I take vaster attitudes,
   And strut upon my stem,
Disdaining men and oxygen,
   For arrogance of them.

My splendors are menagerie;
   But their competeless show
Will entertain the centuries
   When I am, long ago,
An island in dishonored grass,
   Whom none but daisies know.