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!