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!
Till Seraphs swing their snowy Hats --
And Saints -- to windows run --
To see the little Tippler
But the speaker will continue to drink because what she’s drinking — the beauty of the world —intoxicates her earthly rather than spiritual being.  Dickinson neatly ends the stanza with another exclamation mark to suggest that she will never be sated. 
 The preponderance of  alliterative  “d"s throughout the stanza adds to the humour. This poem would work well read aloud in performance.
I taste a liquor never brewed