This is the hour when the poet grieves, <br />Picking his way through the rain-sodden leaves, <br />Betrayed by a promise he no longer believes <br />As he throws in his lot with murderers and thieves. <br /> <br />This is the hour when the mother cries, <br />When the baby whimpers and the wild wind sighs, <br />When lights go out and your happiness dies <br />As lovers all whisper their final goodbyes. <br /> <br />This is the hour you will want to forget, <br />When your body trembles with the skeleton's threat, <br />When your mouth turns dry though your tears are wet, <br />And the Grim Reaper comes to settle your debt.<br /><br />John Thorkild Ellison<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/halloween-32/
