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 Butterflies - renounce their "drams" -

    I shall but drink the more！

    Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats -

    And Saints - to windows run -

    To see the Tippler

    Leaning against the - Sun！