10/01/2025
'Twas the Night Before October
"'Twas the night before October, when all through the air,
The scent of pumpkin spice was beginning to fare;
The last-gasping roses were drooped on the vine,
Surrendering their summer to something more fine.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of costumes danced through their heads;
Of capes, wands, and pirate hats, scary and sweet,
And bags that would soon be filled up with a treat.
Mama in her sweatshirt, and I in my jeans,
Had just shut the windows on summer's bright scenes.
When out on the porch there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the sofa to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Threw open the curtains with a hurried, quick dash.
The moon on the breast of the freshly cut lawn,
Gave the luster of midday to things newly drawn:
The leaves on the maple, once stubbornly green,
Now showed hints of scarlet, a glorious sheen.
And what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a plump little squirrel, with an acorn held dear,
With a flurry of tail and a mischievous glance,
He scurried away in a quick little dance.
More rapid than eagles his colleagues they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name:
"Now, Nutty! Now, Cheeks! Now, Squeaky and Bramble!
Get all of your harvest, get ready to ramble!
From the top of the oak tree to the shed by the wall,
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!"
As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky;
So up to the eaves the little hoarders flew,
With their baskets of nuts, and St. October, too—
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof,
The rustling and scratching, giving palpable proof,
That the spirit of autumn was surely at hand,
A seasonal change sweeping over the land.
I drew in my head, and was turning around,
When down the old chimney came with a soft sound,
Not a heavy-set fellow, but a light, airy breeze,
That smelled of pine needles and damp-rotting trees.
It was dressed all in shadows, from its head to its foot,
And its clothing was tarnished with ash, spice, and soot;
A bundle of gourds it had flung on its back,
And it looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
Its eyes—how they twinkled! Its manner, how grave!
Its voice whispered, Harvest what summer just gave!
Its droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard on its chin was as white as the snow.
The stump of a corn stalk it held tight in its teeth,
And a light hazy mist circled round like a wreath;
It had a broad face and a slightly round belly,
That shook when it chuckled, like a bowl full of jelly.
It was plump and quite charming, a right merry old sprite,
And I laughed when I saw it, despite the cold light;
A wink of its eye and a twist of its head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;
It spoke not a word, but went straight to its work,
And scattered a scattering, giving a jerk,
Of scarlet and yellow, a palette so bright,
Then turning, it vanished right out of my sight.
It sprang to the window, to the sill gave a sway,
And away it flew, whispering, "Hello, first day!"
But I heard it exclaim, ere it drove out of view,
"Happy October to all, and to all something new!""
