I taste a liquor never brewed

Emily Dickinson's poems always confuse me--always. There's a point to where I think I understand, but then I"m always completely wrong. So on this one, I barely even attempted. Once I'm explained her poems, I admire them and her creativeness. I could never think in the way she does. This poem, specifically, confuses me because she gives such praise to this alcohol, but I have no idea what the liquor is. Maybe the liquor is something of nature? But she doesn't literally taste the liquor. She just gets a taste of it when she sees the nature. Maybe I'm completely wrong--which I probably am.