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 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 intwine,

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 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.