Sweet Days of Summer

Emily Dickinson~
.
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!