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Exhilaration—is Within: Poem by Emily Dickinson

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383

Exhilaration—is within—
There can no Outer Wine
So royally intoxicate
As that diviner Brand

The Soul achieves—Herself—
To drink—or set away
For Visitor—Or Sacrament—
'Tis not of Holiday

To stimulate a Man
Who hath the Ample Rhine
Within his Closet—Best you can
Exhale in offering.

Analysis of this poem

More verses by Emily Dickinson

  • It Knew No Medicine
  • Frequently The Wood Are Pink
  • Struck, Was I, Not Yet By Lightning
  • But Little Carmine Hath Her Face
  • By Chivalries As Tiny

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