Emily Dickinson Poem

Blazing in Gold and quenching in Purple

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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

Bless God, he went as soldiers
Between My Country—and the Others

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