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 so, without a Wing

Or service of a Keel

Our Summer made her light escape ~~

Into the Beautiful.

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)