Explore "The Cottage" by Robert Graves on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Here in turn succeed and rule / Carter, smith, and village fool, / Then again the place is known / As tavern, shop, and Sunday-school; / Now somehow it's come to me / To light the fire and hold the key, / Here in Heaven to reign alone.
All the walls are white with lime, / Big blue periwinkles climb / And kiss the crumbling window-sill; / Snug inside I sit and rhyme, / Planning, poem, book, or fable, / At my darling beech-wood table / Fresh with bluebells from the hill.