Three Dickinson Songs

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.

Will there really be a morning?
Is there such a thing as day?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?

Has it feet like water-lilies?
Has it feathers like a bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?

Oh, some scholar! Oh, some sailor!
Oh, some wise man from the skies!
Please to tell a little pilgrim
Where the place called morning lies!

Good Morning -- Midnight --
I'm coming Home --
Day -- got tired of Me --
How could I -- of Him?

Sunshine was a sweet place --
I liked to stay --
But Morn -- didn't want me -- now --
So -- Goodnight -- Day!

I can look -- can't I --
When the East is Red?
The Hills -- have a way -- then --
That puts the Heart -- abroad --

You -- are not so fair -- Midnight --
I chose -- Day --
But -- please take a little Girl --
He turned away!