I taste a liquor never brewed
From tankards scooped in pearl;
Not all the vats upon the Rhine
Yield such and alcohol!
Inebriate of air am I,
And debauches of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
From inns of molten blue
When landlords turn the drunked 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!
