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Edna St. Vincent Millay - Tavern
Work rating: Low

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.
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