Men say that in this midnight hour, The disembodièd have power To wander as it liketh them, By wizard oak and fairy stream.

There is something haunting in the light of the moon; it has all the dispassionateness of a disembodied soul, and something of its inconceivable mystery

'Tis the night - the night Of the grave's delight, And the warlocks are at their play; Ye think that without The wild winds shout, But no, it is they - it is they.

On Halloween, witches come true; Wild ghosts escape from dreams. Each monster dances in the park....

The devil's voice is sweet to hear.

Hark! Hark to the wind! 'Tis the night, they say, When all souls come back from the far away- The dead, forgotten this many a day!