Poems (Millay)/Tavern

by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Tavern

I'll keep a little tavern Below the high hill's crest,Wherein all grey-eyed people May sit them down and rest.

There shall be plates a-plenty, And mugs to melt the chillOf all the grey-eyed people Who happen up the hill.

There sound will sleep the traveller, And dream his journey's end,But I will rouse at midnight The falling fire to tend.

Aye, 'tis a curious fancy— But all the good I knowWas taught me out of two grey eyes A long time ago.