Blazing in gold and quenching in Purple

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.