I Taste A Liquor

I fell in love with Emily Dickinson and her poetry primarily while in college. With a wardrobe strictly limited to black and shades of gray, a lust for life mixed with dare I say a healthy amount of angst, and my share of unrequited love, it seems apparent why Miss Dickinson's life and poems would have so deeply resonated with me. Though I hate to admit that it has been quite some time since I have read her works, today, while leafing through a poetry anthology I recently attained, I came across this winsome verse. Enjoy!

I Taste A Liquor Never Brewed

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, through 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!