(To the poet's own children.)
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!
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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!
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