As Imperceptibly as Grief
André Previn, Emily Dickinson
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 who would be gone
And thus, without a wing
Or service of a keel
Our summer made her light escape
Into the beautiful