 | Poems by Emily Dickinson |  |
168
[XLV. As imperceptibly as grief]
As imperceptibly as grief
The summer lapsed away,—
Too imperceptible, at last,
To seem like perfidy.
The summer lapsed away,—
Too imperceptible, at last,
To seem like perfidy.
A quietness distilled,
As twilight long begun,
Or Nature, spending with herself
Sequestered afternoon.
As twilight long begun,
Or Nature, spending with herself
Sequestered afternoon.
The dusk drew earlier in,
The morning foreign shone,—
A courteous, yet harrowing grace,
As guest who would be gone.
The morning foreign shone,—
A courteous, yet harrowing grace,
As guest who would be gone.
And thus, without a wing,
Or service of a keel,
Our summer made her light escape
Into the beautiful.
Or service of a keel,
Our summer made her light escape
Into the beautiful.
| Poems by Emily Dickinson | |