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by Paddy Mulhern

On Halloween I walked abroad
Among the spirits of the gone,
Paler than the moonlight,
Less substantial than the air,
Voices soft as a falling leaf
Descending on a tomb.

From all points of the wind
They moved across the land,
Time to time one paused to peer
On some half remembered haunt,
Paused and bowed as if to pray,
Then with itís memories moved on.

One turned and held me in itís gaze
For one eternal moment,
As if I was some distant scene
It could but dimly see,
And spoke to me in words so mute
That only my soul could hear.

We pilgrims of the lost domain
Journey endlessly towards home,
Let your children trick and treat,
Let the leaping bonfires burn,
When the embers fade and die,
Whence we came we will return.