September 24, 2003

The dusk drew earlier in ...

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´┐Ż
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.

-- Emily Dickinson

Posted by John Weidner at September 24, 2003 7:56 AM
Weblog by John Weidner