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...THE FIRST BLUEBIRD by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY LETTY'S GLOBE by CHARLES TENNYSON TURNER LOVE'S BLINDNESS by ALFRED AUSTIN ADMIRAL, HAIL! by ANNA EMILIA BAGSTAD BIRTHDAY LINES TO AGNES BAILLIE by JOANNA BAILLIE VOICES BY A RIVER by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN |