A poem for Poetry Day

[sawyl]

For what remains of National Poetry Day, here's poem 324 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!

I often catch myself running through the first few lines when, on a sunny Sunday morning, I happen to meet people on their way to church.