ON my volcano grows the grass
ON my volcano grows the grass,– / A meditative spot,
AURORA - Of bronze and blaze
❦
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.
More poems by Emily Dickinson
INDIAN SUMMER - These are the days when birds come back
These are the days when birds come back, / A very few, a bird or two,
The last night that she lived
The last night that she lived, / It was a common night,
DEAD
There's something quieter than sleep / Within this inner room!