One Halloween Night

Oh, once there was a fiddler came
One late October night,
And the music from his fiddle
Was fancy-free and light.
But still about the twanging
Was a mysterious air,
As if he played of pensive thoughts
He wanted us to share.
He set his feet on Brunsy Lane
Where black oaks mark the way.
It’s there the shadows drown themselves
And eat the light away.
Then as he went his music grew,
A haunting melody.
He nodded as he moved along
At things we could not see.
We didn’t dare to follow,
For the moon was ashy dim,
And blackness like a solid wall
Reached out and swallowed him.
Then as we turned and fled toward home,
Rushing things brushed past our hair.
And breathlessness and silence hung
Upon the mystic air.
There never was another night
That fiddler came our way,
But still, sometimes in fancy,
I can hear his music play.

[illustration] Illustrated by Charles Shaw