Aurora

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.