Edna St. Vincent Millay

(22 February 1892 – 19 October 1950 / Rockland / Maine / United States)

Tavern - Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay

I'll keep a little tavern
Below the high hill's crest,
Wherein all grey-eyed people
May set 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.


Comments about Tavern by Edna St. Vincent Millay

  • Rookie - 37 Points Colleen Courtney (5/17/2014 2:14:00 PM)

    Love this poem on just a little slice of everyday living. (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: journey, people, sleep, dream, fire, time



Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003



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