Of Bronze—and Blaze—

Of Bronze — and Blaze — The North — Tonight — So adequate — it forms — So preconcerted with itself — So distant — to alarms — An Unconcern so sovereign To Universe, or me — Infects my simple spirit With Taints 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 Beetles — know.