  Between the dark and the daylight, When the night 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 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 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 walls shall crumble to ruin, And moulder in dust away. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. |
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