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| Emily Dickinson | |
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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 — 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! 
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