I taste a liquor never brewed --
  From Tankards scooped in Pearl --
 Not all the Frankfort Berries
   Yield such an Alcohol!

Inebriate of air -- I am --
  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 little Tippler 
   Leaning against the -- Sun!