A FIVE YEAR OLD’S VIEW OF HALLOWEEN
By Beatrice Dahlen
The doorway’s bathed in dimness
of a pumpkin’s flickering grin.
The portal creaks ajar,
but my feet will not go in.
From somewhere deep within me
a stuttered greeting trips.
So hushed, these noises almost
don’t make it past my lips.
I trip towards promised treasures
there in the yawning door.
I could escape, but cravings
prod me to the fore.
Though fear engulfs my being
I rise to this one feat.
I hold my sack out towards the trove
and stammer ‘Trick or Treat.’
By Siegfried Sassoon
Across the land a faint blue veil of mist
Seems hung; the woods wear yet arrayment sober
Till frost shall make them flame; silent and whist
The drooping cherry orchards of October
Like mournful pennons hang their shrivelling leaves
Russet and orange: all things now decay;
Long since ye garnered in your autumn sheaves,
And sad the robins pipe at set of day.
Now do ye dream of Spring when greening shaws
Confer with the shrewd breezes, and of slopes
Flower-kirtled, and of April, virgin guest;
Days that ye love, despite their windy flaws,
Since they are woven with all joys and hopes
Whereof ye nevermore shall be possessed.