LVII
by Emily Dickinson
Some keep the Sabbath going to church;
I keep it staying at home,
With a bobolink for a chorister,
And an orchard for a dome.
Some keep the Sabbath in surplice;
I just wear my wings,
And instead of tolling the bell for church,
Our little sexton sings.
God preaches,—a noted clergyman,—
And the sermon is never long;
So instead of getting to heaven at last,
I ’m going all along!
Yours, wherever you may be,
Daniel C. Wright
Oxford English Dictionary
Monday, April 14, 2008
Seven Days of Poetry: Day Two
Posted by Daniel C. Wright at 08:36
Labels: Emily Dickinson, Poetry
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment