into the beautiful

Every year at the end of summer, I think of this poem. It’s one of my favorites.

Into the beautiful, by 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 that would be gone.

And thus, without a wing,
Or service of a keel,
Our summer made her light escape
Into the Beautiful.

 

 

Into the beautiful

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  
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.  

 

(sigh….a moment of grace in this cold brutish world).  We need more poetry breaks, don’t you agree?