The Children's Hour

 

       Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

  (1807 - 1882)

 

                              Between the dark and the daylight,

                            When the night is beginning to lower,

                            Comes a pause in the day's occupation,

                             That is know 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 laughing Allegra,

                                 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 the wall,

                               Such an old moustache 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 in the dungeon

                               In the round-tower of my heart.

 

                              And there will I keep you forever,

                                   Yes, forever and a day,

                             Till the walls shall crumble to ruin,

                                 And moulder in dust away!

 

From: http://members.xoom.com/ncfolks/childrenhour.htm

 

*“Bishop of Bingen” (a city in southwestern Germany) was Hatto I, archbishop of Mainz, governed Germany as regent for Louis III (of Germany), called The Child (893-911), king of Germany (899-911). According to legend Hatto I was devoured by mice for wrongdoing.

 

 

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