Poetry Friday - Reading Pleasure

      
       Poetry Friday is hosted today by Violet Nesdoly at Violet Nesdoly/Poems. No matter the topic, her words always inspire. This time, she has shared a memory of a year ago and a loving ode to autumn's popular crop, the pumpkin. Thanks, Violet, and Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!

A recent discovery of a "tree jack o' lantern"
on a nearby street,
readying for Halloween.

       I'm going away this weekend, across town to stay with my granddaughters, Ingrid and Imogene, while their parents fly off to celebrate their anniversary. That's one of the definitions of grandparents, right, to offer some time to remember that parents are also a couple, not only parents. 
       I know that the grand-girls and I will have a great time. There is a new dinosaur exhibit at the Museum of Nature and Science. We might find a playground to play on for a while. The weather is supposed to be warm, with cold not coming until Monday.
       And we'll read. There has been more and more talk recently about the best way to help children become good readers, to love to read. That best way is to read, to allow slow time to read, to read as adults for children to see!  I've pulled out a few books to take, mostly our favorite Halloween books, and a new short chapter book that re-tells some old favorite fairy tales. The girls own lots of books themselves, so we'll revisit some of those too. 
        There are many poems written about children, and a favorite of mine is one read to me long ago by one of my grandfathers. Let us celebrate today's, yesterday's, and tomorrow's Children's Hour! I cannot state that I am "an old mustache," but I will "put (them) down into the dungeon/In the round-tower of my heart."

         The Children's Hour

by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

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!