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Read the poem: “A Service of Song”

by Emily Dickinson

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American LiteratureAmerican PoetryEmily Dickinson
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A shady friend for torrid days > > >


A Service of Song

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!


< < < A Rose
A shady friend for torrid days > > >

American LiteratureAmerican PoetryEmily Dickinson



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