Halloween.

A night when witches skim the air,
    When spooks and goblins climb the stair;
When bats rush out with muffled wings,
    And now and then the door-bell rings;
But just the funniest thing of all
    Is 'cause you can't see when they call.

Edwin C. Ranck

Edwin C. Ranck was an American lyricist noted for his work in the early 20th century. He was a prolific writer and his lyrics were often characterized by their humor and wit. One of his standout works is the poem 'The Optimist', which reflects his positive outlook on life. Beyond that, little is known about his personal life or career. He remains a somewhat obscure figure in literary history.

Edwin C. Ranck

At The Telephone.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

Christmas Toys.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

Why The Mole Is Blind.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

A Pun From The Deep.

Edwin C. Ranck, Simple Poetry

English

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Hallowe'en.

        A tale we'll tell of what hath been
        When maids and youths kept Hallowe'en,
        It is a tale of old world lore
        What happened in the days of yore,
        When fairies danced upon the green
        So merrily on Hallowe'en,
        And witches did play many a trick
        Assisted by their auld friend Nick,
        And lovers meet around the fire
        Near to the one their hearts desire,
        For to burn nuts for to discover
        The truthfulness of their lover.
        They first did give each nut a name,
        This was Sandy, that was Jane.
        If they did blaze side by side,
        She knew her husband, he his bride,
        But if one up the chimney flew,
        One knew the other was not true.
        ...

James McIntyre

The Alarm Clock.

With a clatter and a jangle,
    And a wrangle and a screech,
How the old alarm clock wheezes
    As it sneezes out of reach!
How you groan and yawn and stretch
    In the chilly morning air,
As you pull the blankets tight,
    With your head clear out of sight--
How you swear!

Edwin C. Ranck

In Deeper Vein.

The Incubus.


The way was dark within the gloomy church-yard,
    As I wandered through the woodland near the stream,
With slow and heavy tread
    Through a city of the dead,
When suddenly I heard a dreadful scream.

My heart gave frantic leap, as when the roebuck
    Is started by the clamor of the chase,
And I halted all atremble
    In the vain hope to dissemble,
Or cloak the leaden pallor on my face.

'Twas in the ghostly month of grim December,
    The frozen winds were bitter in their cry
And I muttered half aloud
    To that white and silent crowd:
"'Tis a somber month to live in or to die."

And then as if in answer to my whisper,
    Came a voice of some foul fiend from Hell:
"No longer live say I,
    'Tis be...

Edwin C. Ranck

The Jack-O'-Lantern

Last night it was Hallowe'en.
Darkest night I've ever seen.
And the boy next door, I thought,
Would be glad to know of this
Jack-o'-lantern father brought
Home from Indianapolis.
And he was glad. Borrowed it.
Put a candle in and lit;
Hid among the weeds out there
In the side lot near the street.
I could see it, eyes aglare,
Mouth and nose red slits of heat.
My! but it looked scary! He
Perched an old hat on it, see?
Like some hat a scarecrow has,
Battered, tattered all around;
And he fanned long arms of grass
Up and down above the ground.
First an Irish woman, shawled,
With a basket, saw it; bawled
For her Saints and wept and cried,
"Is it you, Pat? Och! I knew
He would git you whin you died!
'Faith! there's little change in y...

Madison Julius Cawein

The Lubber Fiend

In the woods, not long ago,
Met with Robin Goodfellów;
First we heard his horse-like laugh
In an ivy-bush near by;
Then we saw him, like a calf,
Or a frisky colt, just fly
Kicking high his frantic heels,
Squealing as a scared pig squeals.

Snorting, baaing, neighing too,
Through the woods he fairly flew;
Father followed him, but he
Could n't catch him long of limb
As a grasshopper, you see,
There's no man could capture him:
Then, besides, his color's green,
So he's rarely ever seen.

Often when you're in the woods,
Just a-walking with your moods,
And not thinking; listening how
Still it is, right near your head
Breaks the bellow of a cow
And you drop scared nearly dead:
That's old Robin you can't see
'Cause he's col...

Madison Julius Cawein

Halloween.

It was down in the woodland on last Hallowe'en,
Where silence and darkness had built them a lair,
That I felt the dim presence of her, the unseen,
And heard her still step on the ghost-haunted air.

It was last Hallowe'en in the glimmer and swoon
Of mist and of moonlight that thickened and thinned,
That I saw the gray gleam of her eyes in the moon,
And hair, like a raven, blown wild in the wind.

It was last Hallowe'en where starlight and dew
Made mystical marriage on flower and leaf,
That she led me with looks of a love that I knew,
And lured with the voice of a heart-buried grief.

It was last Hallowe'en in the forest of dreams,
Where trees are eidolons and shadows have eyes,
That I saw her pale face like the foam of far streams,
And heard, like th...

Madison Julius Cawein