Will you don your pumpkin face?
Will you, jack-o-lantern-like,
Seek to trick the wandering souls
That seize on this, their final chance,
To be avenged or else set free?
If you do, though you poke holes
Into the harvest’s firm illusions,
You will not see wandering souls,
Only a trick of dappled light,
As slow October fades to dusk.
And if you take the children to
Each house’s threshold for a treat,
You may find more than you expected,
But it will be hiding in
The rooms they do not let you see.
The souls that wander on this night
Have bodies which they wander in;
They carry lanterns by their sides
And look for treasure behind doors
But never look above.
So childhood’s delight takes the day
And wanders with it through the street,
As superstition and franchise
Distract us for another year
While we neglect our souls.
The Consolations of Writing 