by Henry Wadsworth
Between the dark and the daylight,
When the light is beginning to lower,
Comes a pause in the day’s occupations
That is known as the Children’s Hour.
I hear in the chamber above me
The patter of little feet,
The sound of a door that is opened,
And voices soft and sweet.
From my study I see in the lamplight,
Descending the broad hall stair,
Grave Alice
And Edith with golden hair.
A whisper, and then a silence;
Yet I know by their merry eyes,
They are plotting and planning together
To take me by surprise.
A sudden rush from the stairway,
A sudden raid from the hall!
By three doors left unguarded
They enter my castle wall!
They climb up into my turret,
O’er the arms and back of my chair;
If I try to escape, they surround me;
They seem to be everywhere.
They almost devour me with kisses,
Their arms about me entwine,
Till I think of the Bishop of Bingen
In his Mouse-Tower on the Rhine .
Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled my wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not a match for you all?
I have you fast in my fortress,
And will not let you depart,
But put you down into the dungeon
In the round-tower of my heart.
And there will I keep you forever,
Yes, forever and a day,
Till the wall shall crumble in ruin,
And moulder in dust away.
Citation:
Longfellow, Henry Wadsworth. “The Children’s Hour” from One Hundred and One Famous Poems, compiled by Roy J. Cook. Contemporary Books, Chicago.1958 Page 94.
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