Of Bronze - ...

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 Beetless - know.

Emily Dickinson - Quarante-Sept poème, La Dogana