The Children's Hour

OK... Bless your enduring heart, I am going to gush! Sorry... can't be helped. I had breakfast with my best friend and brother (yes!... younger than me... they're ALL younger than me!) at Einstein's this morning as he took a "see you again, next time" detour on his way to the airport. So, why the "gush"? Because I was with my favorite person on this globe and I am celebrating his Being in love! Steven is totally in love with Mary, his wife... he is completely in love with his children; two of whom (Maggie and Sophia) he anxiously looks forward to being with this evening... and he is in love with the life that they make a living joy for him. So... I, (who loves him ) am gushing with delight for him... for them... and for being able to share in his joy with him.

So, My Dear Reader, I am going to share a special treat with you so that you too can have something to "gush" over... My favorite poem (and you will quickly see why Steven reminds me of it right now.) It is the poem that, upon my discovery of it, made me fall in love with Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and elect him as my favorite poet of all time. I now invite you to enjoy... The Children's Hour.

The Children’s Hour
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
(Born February 27, 1807; died March 24, 1882)

Between the dark and the daylight,
When the light 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 the 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 wall shall crumble to ruin,
And moulder in dust away.


IMAGE: Public source