Till the walls shall crumble to ruin

"Between the dark and the daylight
When the night is beginning to lower
Comes a pause from the day's occupations
That is known as the Children's Hour."

I can hear my mother's voice echoing Longfellow's lovely words over and over. They became my words. They became my rhythm. They became my pictures. I saw those little girls laughing, tumbling, shouting, hugging their father at the end of the day.

And as the poem continues he closes with

"I have you fast in my fortress
And will not let you depart
But put you down in the dungeon
In the round-tower of my heart

And there I will keep you forever
Yes, forever and a day
Till the walls shall crumble to ruin
And moulder in dust away." 

Did we use phrases like "night beginning to lower" "moulder in dust away" in our Hinkletown household? Surely not on a day to day basis! But those words were mine from the time I was the smallest child. I recognized them everywhere we met and hugged them close because of a poem about a father and his children.

And just as surely I have kept my mother and her words in the round tower of my heart, forever and a day.