by Emily Dickinson
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American Literature – American Poetry – Emily Dickinson
< < < I shall know why, when time is over
I think just how my shape will rise > > >
I taste a liquor never brewed
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!
< < < I shall know why, when time is over
I think just how my shape will rise > > >
American Literature – American Poetry – Emily Dickinson
Copyright holders – Public Domain
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