by C. Jennie Swaine
Gay elfins flit under the holm's broad sheen,
As the first star rises on Halloween;
And goblins and fairies, a weird-like band,
Dance 'neath the shadow of sweet tryst-land.
They ride through the air in their chariots small;
They sail through the spray of the water-fall;
They float through the billows of moon-light sweet,
And glide through the forest with noiseless feet.
Sweet fairy band, whose footsteps unseen
Are lost in the frost-pearls of Halloween!
It is said that ye open, with mystic hand,
The gateway that leads to Arcana land.
What is the secret the future unfolds?
What are the gifts which its fairy-land holds ?
Are they all which a dream foreshows
When the rainbow of promise upon it glows ?
O Halloween, open thy vista gate,
And reveal through the rose-tints the lines of fate ;
Reflect in thy mirror our bloom-days bright,
And leave all the shadow-days veiled in night.
Give the hero the heritage for spoil,
Give the toiler the measure-meed of toil,
And thy dreamland glories, sweet Halloween,
The Elysium of meet reward shall seem.
Show thou to us the charmed life that lives
On the festal bounty of what it gives,
And we 'll learn that 't is better to write one's name
On the human heart than on heights of fame.
Weave your bright spell, elves of Halloween!
O'er a servile enchantress; but work is queen.
And no better can be the sorcerer's wand
Than the laurel's green and the palm-tree's frond.