The end of summer always reminds me of a beautiful poem penned by the American poet, Emily Dickinson. Born in Amherst, Massachusetts, she died there in 1886. I felt the need for a poetry break this morning. My favourite French poet is Charles Baudelaire. At some point I’ll post a favourite poem of his, translated into English. In the meantime, here’s Ms. Dickinson –
| As imperceptibly as grief |
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| The summer lapsed away, |
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| Too imperceptible, at last, |
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| To seem like perfidy. |
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| A quietness distilled, |
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| As twilight long begun, |
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| Or Nature, spending with herself |
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| Sequestered afternoon. |
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| The dusk drew earlier in, |
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| The morning foreign shone,— |
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| A courteous, yet harrowing grace, |
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| As guest who would be gone. |
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| And thus, without a wing, |
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| Or service of a keel, |
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| Our summer made her light escape |
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| Into the beautiful. |
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| (sigh….a moment of grace in this cold brutish world). We need more poetry breaks, don’t you agree? |
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