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Last Post 04/08/2011 10:47 AM by  Anita
Poems We Love
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Dean Baylor
Member
Member
Posts:147


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04/19/2010 8:21 PM
    When I was in the 8th grade, I had the good fortune to have a teacher who loved the works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow. He was always quoting one poem or another. I loved them all, and in particular, remembered the "blue-eyed banditti" of the Children's Hour:

    The Children's Hour
    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!





    Serena
    Member
    Member
    Posts:95


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    04/07/2011 12:12 PM
    How sweet! Thank you Boyd.
    Anita
    Member
    Member
    Posts:7


    --
    04/08/2011 10:47 AM
    When I was in the sixth grade, my instructor was
    very fond of oral recitation. He had students
    practice over and over in front of the class. I
    remember enjoying and practically memorizing a
    sonnet by Elizabeth Barrett Browning...


    How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
    I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
    My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
    For the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
    I love thee to the level of everyday's
    Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
    I love thee freely, as men strive for Right;
    I love thee purely, as they turn from Praise.
    I love thee with a passion put to use
    In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
    I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
    With my lost saints, --- I love thee with the breath,
    Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God choose,
    I shall but love thee better after death.
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