More fun with the 2,500 page, unabridged dictionary, without which our literature would be as lost as our architecture…

SUNSET

Blazing in gold, and quenching in purple,
Leaping like leopards in the sky,
Then at the feet of the old horizon
Laying her spotted face to die;
Stooping as low as the oriel window,
Touching the roof, and tinting the barn,

Kissing her bonnet to the meadow-
And the Juggler of Day is gone!

— Emily Dickinson, 1864