Explore "Tavern" by Edna St. Vincent Millay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
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 chill
Of 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 know
Was taught me out of two grey eyes
/ A long time ago.