BLAZING in gold and quenching in purple, Leaping like leopards to the sky, Then at the feet of the old horizon Laying her spotted face, to die; Stooping as low as the kitchen window, Touching the roof and tinting the barn, Kissing her bonnet to the meadow, -- And the juggler of day is gone! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LILIES: 29 by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 17 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH A PORTRAIT by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING PARLEYINGS WITH CERTAIN PEOPLE OF IMPORTANCE: CHARLES AVISON by ROBERT BROWNING PSYCHOLOPHON by FRANK GELETT BURGESS LINES WRITTEN ON WINDOWS OF THE GLOBE INN, DUMFRIES by ROBERT BURNS |