| Printable Version of Topic
Click here to view this topic in its original format |
| Celtic Radio Community > Celtic Hearts > Halloween |
| Posted by: Leelee 05-Oct-2009, 04:34 PM |
| All are on their rounds to-night,- In the wan moon's silver ray Thrives their helter-skelter play. Fond of cellar, barn,or stack, True unto the almanac, They present to credulous eyes Strange hobgoblin mysteries. Cabbage-stomps-straws wet with dew- Apple-skins, and chestnuts too, And a mirror for some lass, Show what wonders come to pass. Doors they move, and gates they hide, Mischiefs that on moon-beams ride Are their deeds, and, by their spells, Love records its oracles. Don't we all, of long ago, By the ruddy fireplace glow, In the kitchen and the hall, Those queer, cooflike pranks recall? Eery shadows were they then But tonight they come again; Were we once more but sixteen, Precious would be Halloween. -Joel Benton |
| Posted by: mcnberry 05-Oct-2009, 10:25 PM |
| HALLOWE'EN Bring forth the raisins and the nuts-- To-night All-Hallows' Spectre struts Along the moonlit way. No time is this for tear or sob, Or other woes our joys to rob, But time for Pippin and for Bob, And Jack-o'-lantern gay. Come forth, ye lass and trousered kid, From prisoned mischief raise the lid, And lift it good and high. Leave grave old Wisdom in the lurch, Set Folly on a lofty perch, Nor fear the awesome rod of birch When dawn illumes the sky. 'Tis night for revel, set apart To reillume the darkened heart, And rout the hosts of Dole. 'Tis night when Goblin, Elf, and Fay, Come dancing in their best array To prank and royster on the way, And ease the troubled soul. The ghosts of all things, past parade, Emerging from the mist and shade That hid them from our gaze, And full of song and ringing mirth, In one glad moment of rebirth, Again they walk the ways of earth, As in the ancient days. The beacon light shines on the hill, The will-o'-wisps the forests fill With flashes filched from noon; And witches on their broomsticks spry Speed here and yonder in the sky, And lift their strident voices high Unto the Hunter's moon. The air resounds with tuneful notes From myriads of straining throats, All hailing Folly Queen; So join the swelling choral throng, Forget your sorrow and your wrong, In one glad hour of joyous song To honor Hallowe'en. J. K. BANGS in Harper's Weekly, Nov. 5, 1910. |