The Children’s Hour

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 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 into the dungeons
   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!