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Literature Text
Old Samhain sits on his throne
Waiting in silence, all alone.
As Autumn makes its leave,
We celebrate the Winter's reave.
Before the fires on the hill,
This hallowed eve is such a thrill,
And to our hearth's golden light,
The dead will come to our delight.
Waiting in silence, all alone.
As Autumn makes its leave,
We celebrate the Winter's reave.
Before the fires on the hill,
This hallowed eve is such a thrill,
And to our hearth's golden light,
The dead will come to our delight.
Just a little Halloween poem.
Comments3
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I love it! ^·^