Category: Emily Dickinson

  • Emily Dickinson

    Much Madness is divinest Sense
    To a discerning Eye –
    Much Sense – the starkest Madness –

    ‘Tis the Majority
    In this, as All, prevail –

    Assent – and you are sane –
    Demur – you’re straightway dangerous –
    And handled with a Chain –

     

    I’m Nobody! Who are you?
    Are you – Nobody – Too?
    Then there’s a pair of us?
    Don’t tell! they’d advertise – you know!

    How dreary – to be – Somebody!
    How public – like a Frog –
    To tell one’s name – the livelong June –
    To an admiring Bog!

     

    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.