I taste a liquor never brewed --
From Tankards scooped in Pearl --
Not all the Vats upon the Rhine
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 --
~ Emily Dickenson
Hahaha! I had forgotten about this DIckinson poem until I saw it again here. Laughing reduces the jealousy I feel when I see your lovely garden. :)
ReplyDeleteJason