Emily Dickinson loves nature. No, seriously, she loves nature so much that she writes about it—a lot. "I taste a liquor never brewed" is one of many nature-themed poems in Dickinson's collection of works.

One thing that makes this one special is the naughtiness of the subject matter. When Dickinson was writing, it was not considered proper for a young lady to drink to excess. Sure—a tiny glass of sherry at a dinner party was fine, but it was more of an accessory than an actual beverage. In 1860, even if she did take a sip or two, a prim young lady (actually Em was pushing 30 when she wrote this poem) would never find herself inebriated, especially in public. We're clutching our pearls and fanning ourselves just at the thought of it! Thank heavens it's just a little ol' metaphor about the joys of nature.

Knowing what we know (and what we don't know) about Emily Dickinson—she was a bit of loner, she never married, her poems won't discovered until after her death—it can be easy to overlook the wit that infuses much of her poetry. It's wry and sometimes hard to catch at first glance, but it's there. We're not pulling your leg here, but Dickinson might be.

That isn't to say that the overall message she's trying to deliver isn't sincere, it's just that a little dash of cheeky humor certainly spices up what could otherwise be pretty bland fare.

We all need a reminder once in a while to just unplug and get out in the natural world. With all our fancy technology nowadays that keeps us inside, Emily Dickinson's poem may actually be more valid and important now than it was when she first wrote it. Dickinson wrote this poem at the height of the Victorian era. Victorian culture was all the rave and had made its way across the pond to inspire American culture too, especially in New England. The Victorians loved a good round of croquet on the lawn or taking tea by the lake. Well, they loved it as long as they could take all their furniture, awnings, umbrellas, blankets, china, servants—you get the idea.

Oh, and let's not forget that they had to be properly dressed for the occasion too with long sleeves, hats and parasols. In other words, they loved nature as long as it stayed at a comfortable distance.

Dickinson, though, was trying to lift the mosquito nets and let the sun shine in on the stuffy Victorian existence. Today, Dickinson might have been even more manic about the situation. In modern times, our experiences of nature are even more detached—lawns are for gnomes, not social sporting activities, and we can experience breathtaking views of anywhere on the planet in panoramic 3-D right down the road at our local movie theater.

Dickinson wants us to come out of the air conditioning and remember how glorious it feels to have the sun on our face (after applying SPF 30, of course). The intensity of the high described in the poem might be a little tongue-in-cheek, but there certainly is a certain buzz that you can get just from a nice breath of fresh air and some sunlight.