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Tavern

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.

This poem was originally published in Renascence and Other Poems (1917) and is in the public domain. 

This poem was originally published in Renascence and Other Poems (1917) and is in the public domain. 

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Edna St. Vincent Millay

Poet and playwright Edna St. Vincent Millay was born in Rockland, Maine.

by this poet

poem
Time cannot break the bird's wing from the bird.
Bird and wing together
Go down, one feather.

No thing that ever flew,
Not the lark, not you,
Can die as others do.
poem
Hearing your words, and not a word among them 
Tuned to my liking, on a salty day 
When inland woods were pushed by winds that flung them 
Hissing to leeward like a ton of spray,
I thought how off Matinicus the tide 
Came pounding in, came running though the Gut, 
While from the Rock the warning whistle cried,
poem

The courage that my mother had
Went with her, and is with her still:
Rock from New England quarried;
Now granite in a granite hill.

The golden brooch my mother wore
She left behind for me to wear;
I have no thing I treasure more:
Yet, it is something I could spare.

Oh, if