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 bu*terflies -- 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 --