I have come to love and appreciate the poems of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. I find that wherever I am at in life, he has a poem that speaks to it. And that’s the case today, on Father’s Day, as I think back to the years gone by. His poem “The Children’s Hour” is a celebration of his daughters and his love for them, and I think any father will be able to identify with it.
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
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