As imperceptibly as Grief
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—
The Dusk drew earlier in—
The Morning foreign shone—
A courteous, yet harrowing Grace,
As Guest, that would be gone—
And thus, without a Wing
Or service of a Keel
Our Summer made her light escape
Into the Beautiful.

emily dickinson


  1. Except for us, our summer is only just beginning!

  2. I know! We scurried up there yesterday. It's heaven, dear SF is, no cloud cover, happy days...

    Loved your rec. on the new place; hope to go soon. More asap. Have a sunny day, dear Annie.