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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 Otter's Window
Touching the Roof and tinting the Barn
Kissing her Bonnet to the Meadow
And the Juggler of Day is gone
More verses by Emily Dickinson
- Except To Heaven, She Is Nought
- Did The Harebell Loose Her Girdle
- Better—than Music! For I—who Heard It
- By A Flower—by A Letter
- Some Keep The Sabbath Going To Church