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.