Summer lapses away

Sunday, 24 August, 2014

Upon the death of Emily Dickinson in 1886, her family discovered forty hand-bound volumes containing nearly 1,800 poems. She had lived for all of her 55 years in her father’s house, most of them in almost total seclusion. Today, she is recognized as one of the greatest poets in the English language. This gem is appropriate on this brisk August day as one can sense the summer slipping away.

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 (1830 — 1886)

Filed in: Poetry

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