Reblogged from Romance Isn't Dead, It Just Evolved:
The ghosts of all things past parade, Emerging from the mist and shade That hid them from our gaze, And, full of song and ringing mirth, In one glad moment of rebirth, And again they walk the ways of earth As in the ancient days.
The beacon light shines on the hill, The will-o’-wisps the forests fill With flashes filched from noon; And witches on their broomsticks spry Speed here and yonder in the sky, And lift their strident voices high Unto the Hunter’s Moon.
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Ah ... I love this time of year...
Published on October 06, 2012 15:35