I'll keep a little tavern <br />Below the high hill's crest, <br />Wherein all grey-eyed people <br />May set them down and rest. <br />There shall be plates a-plenty, <br />And mugs to melt the chill <br />Of all the grey-eyed people <br />Who happen up the hill. <br />There sound will sleep the traveller, <br />And dream his journey's end, <br />But I will rouse at midnight <br />The falling fire to tend. <br />Aye, 'tis a curious fancy-- <br />But all the good I know <br />Was taught me out of two grey eyes <br />A long time ago.<br /><br />Edna St Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tavern-2/
