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 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.