Classic Poem

'Tis on October, thirty-first,
That streams of pleasure swell and burst,
When peace and joy pervade the scene,
While keeping watch of Hallowe'en.

On tiptoe here the wonder stands,
To catch a glimpse of other lands;
With bated breath and anxious eyes —
The herald of to-morrow's prize.

In lovely hues a spirit paints
A picture of the " Feast of Saints, "
All clustered round the festal board —
A scene time-honored and adored.

Perchance we all shall tarry late,
When such a time we celebrate,
Our stay excuse, for 'twill be seen,
We vigils keep of Hallowe'en.

We drink the sweet persimmon beer,
The raccoon fills the heart with cheer,
The 'possum hearkens to the sounds,
Of hunters with their horns and hounds

The juveniles their bonfires raise,
The band melodious music plays,
We duck for apples in a tub,
While drums are beating, rub-a-dub!

To some a partner comes for life,
A husband, or a loving wife,
In divers ways, with happy mien,
We spend the time of Hallowe'en.