Poems for Halloween

Remember friend as you walk by

As you are now so once was I

As I am now you will surely be

Prepare thyself to follow me.

Common Headstone Epitaph

On October 31st we celebrate Halloween in the United States. Halloween, in its current form, has its origins in the Catholic celebration of All Hallows Eve with the Celtic tradition of Samhain (pronounced sow-in). 

For the Celts, Samhain marked the transition from the harvest season to the winter.  This was also at this time that the Celts believed that the boundary between the living and the dead thinned and the ghost of those that passed could rejoin us on earth. 

All Hallows Eve is the Catholic celebration the occurs on the night before All Saints Day. All Saints Day was established to honor all the saints and martyrs that have passed. The festivities for All Hallows Eve eventually took on many of the same traditions as Samhain, including its focus on bonfires and the costumes of saints, angels, and devils.(1) It was through this blending of these two traditions that we eventually ended up today’s Halloween. 

Halloween’s roots have always had something to do with celebrating and connecting with the dead.  The editors at History.com state, “It began as a Celtic end-of-summer festival during which people felt especially close to deceased relatives and friends. For these friendly spirits, they set places at the dinner table, left treats on doorsteps and along the side of the road and lit candles to help loved ones find their way back to the spirit world.”(1) 

It is in this liminal space between earth and the spirit world where we find the inspiration for today’s poems. 

“The Unquiet Grave” by Anonymous

“The wind doth blow today, my love,
And a few small drops of rain;
I never had but one true-love,
In cold grave she was lain.

“I’ll do as much for my true-love
As any young man may;
I’ll sit and mourn all at her grave
For a twelvemonth and a day.”

The twelvemonth and a day being up,
The dead began to speak:
“Oh who sits weeping on my grave,
And will not let me sleep?”

“’T is I, my love, sits on your grave,
And will not let you sleep;
For I crave one kiss of your clay-cold lips,
And that is all I seek.”

“You crave one kiss of my clay-cold lips,
But my breath smells earthy strong;
If you have one kiss of my clay-cold lips,
Your time will not be long.

“’T is down in yonder garden green,
Love, where we used to walk,
The finest flower that e’re was seen
Is withered to a stalk.

“The stalk is withered dry, my love,
So will our hearts decay;
So make yourself content, my love,
Till God calls you away.”

What I enjoy about this poem is that it is a conversation between loved ones.  One person is on earth and the other one has passed. Through this dialogue we explore the emotional grief that exists when we lose someone.  It also speculates that those who have passed would probably like us to continue on with our life here.  It is such an interesting conversation, and one that fits nicely within this poem.

Graveyard in Puerto Rico

“Spirits of the Dead” by Edgar Allan Poe

Thy soul shall find itself alone
’Mid dark thoughts of the gray tombstone—
Not one, of all the crowd, to pry
Into thine hour of secrecy.

Be silent in that solitude,
Which is not loneliness—for then
The spirits of the dead who stood
In life before thee are again
In death around thee—and their will
Shall overshadow thee: be still.

The night, tho’ clear, shall frown—
And the stars shall look not down
From their high thrones in the heaven,
With light like Hope to mortals given—
But their red orbs, without beam,
To thy weariness shall seem
As a burning and a fever
Which would cling to thee for ever.

Now are thoughts thou shalt not banish,
Now are visions ne’er to vanish;
From thy spirit shall they pass
No more—like dew-drop from the grass.

The breeze—the breath of God—is still—
And the mist upon the hill,
Shadowy—shadowy—yet unbroken,
Is a symbol and a token—
How it hangs upon the trees,
A mystery of mysteries!

The first two stanzas of this poem really stand out for me. It seems like Poe is reassuring the reader that when we die we are not alone. Instead, we join those that have gone before us. Poe then continues with speculation on the process of moving from the earthly realm to the spirit realm. Poe then ends with the line “A mystery of mysteries”. I think is probably the best line to use to conclude a poem like this.

statue in graveyard

“Hallowe’een” by Marion Ethel Hamilton

Leaves are falling, and boys are calling--
They will come with lanterns tonight
And grin through the panes;
Come with yellow lanterns,
And weird red dresses blowing
In the warm October winds
That will soon be bringing rains.

Leaves are falling, and boys are calling,
And witches will be scudding
On their brooms like a bird.
I shall hide up in my attic, 
And start at creaking rafters,
Shudder at strange laughters,
And cry, unheard.

This final poem is less about the passing of the spirit and more about the tradition of Halloween.   When I read this poem, I wonder if Hamilton is actually scared at Halloween or just getting into the spirit of it all.

This poem seems to have a lighter feel than the other two even if Hamilton does end up hiding in the attic.  


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12 thoughts on “Poems for Halloween

Add yours

  1. That is such a profound warning on that headstone!
    I really like Marion Ethel Hamilton’s poem. It’s fun . . . but I’m not sure that the attic is the best place to hide when you feel spooked! 😀

      1. In films something untoward always happens in the attic or the cellar! I love those ‘on the edge of your seat’ films. 😀

  2. I’ve not celebrated Halloween since a child when our neighbours and my family shared a small bonfire, fireworks and food each year. Our neighbour’s cheese flan was my favourite 😋. That was in the 1950s. Unfortunately, the 60s descended into the “Troubles” here and well for me, that put an end to any celebrations! However, remembrance is something I hold dear, whether it is to a deceased parent or family member or those lost in wartime or a natural disaster, they are all remembered during the month of November. 🙏

    1. Hi Ashley, thanks for sharing your experience. It is interesting to hear about the challenges with the holidays. I was also reading that vandalism during Halloween became a big problem over here in the States during the 20 and 30s. That sparked community leaders to shift the day to become more focused on children, in hopes that it limit the destruction.

  3. Great choices of poems to celebrate the day — I enjoyed reading these. And thanks for choosing a Poe poem that’s not “The Raven” — it’s nice to see another of his poems besides that one.

  4. I love The Unquiet Grave! Thank you for sharing that. I also like Edgar Allen Poe and agree with Dave that its nice to see a different poem because Poe was not a “one hit wonder” when it comes to poetry. I also get irked when people only play the somber three bars of “The Funeral March from Piano Sonata No.2” by Chopin completely ignoring the message of hope that is also imbedded in the song. It reminds me of when a dark day turns to light and offers a rainbow of hope that this is not the end.

    1. Hi Melanie, it must be that human tendency to gravitate to the sound bytes or the catchy phrases that limits getting to know the full or complete meaning of things. At best we can miss out of stuff, at the worst we make uniformed decision.about things that lead into conflict. Okay, maybe that is a little much. . . . Glad you enjoyed the poem and found the Unquiet Grave enjoyable. It was definitely a fun find!

  5. Okay, I know you were pointing out all the intricacies and beauty of “The Unquiet Grave,” but I must confess I got stuck on “clay-cold lips.” Such a vivid image that I can feel in my own lips! Yikes. (However, I absolutely loved “witches will be scudding”). A very nice round-up of poems, Mark.

    1. Hi Tracy, Thank for sharing your the reaction! Definitely some great imagery in these lines. I don’t know if I have ever use scudding in a sentence before.

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