I taste a liquor never brewed -
From Tankards scooped in Pearl -
Not all the Frankfort Berries
Yield such an Alcohol!
Inebriate of air - am I -
And Debauchee of Dew -
Reeling - thro’ endless summer days -
From inns of molten Blue -
When “Landlords” turn the drunken Bee
Out of the Foxglove’s door -
When Butterflies - renounce their “drams” -
I shall but drink the more!
Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats -
And Saints - to windows run -
To see the little Tippler
Leaning against the - Sun!
Source of the text - The Poems of Emily Dickinson: Reading Edition, edited by Ralph W. Franklin. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1998, p. 96.
TJB: Day-drinking. The poet glories in nature’s mellow fruitfulness—molten blue! leaning against the sun/lamppost! Is it about nature or her poetic gift?
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