Oh, wild lonely places of sweet dread delight
That call to my Children on Halloween night
In whispering wind wisps and whipporwill plight
Tickling the treetops where moonbeams alight.
Come hither, ye Witches, on silver light fly!
Don't dawdle, don't saunter, don't idly stroll by!
Lift your skirts as seer gusts catch the leaves dead and dry
Rise up with the wind soaring hasty on high!
Ride ye thus to the hollow in the wood dark and deep
Where all merry parted shall now merry meet.
At the time 'twas appointed that time shall ye keep
To honor me, hail me in great esbat fete.
When the moon sailing bright in the dark midnight blue
Casts her spell on the landscape, reversing each hue,
And the scent of the night gives the magickal clue
To the circle make haste, give Hecate her due!
Dance wild, draw the power and shape in a cone,
Till the power is thine and the will is thine own
Then hurl't to the wind that thy purpose be flown
And thy wish shall I grant on the Night of the Crone.
One and all then come hither and join the great feast
Where within all are welcome: Spirit, Human, and Beast.
Give hail and farewell to the souls since deceased
Then wend thy way home 'fore the Sun tints the East.
But remember, my Children, remember quite clear
The sound of my voice ringing high in your ear.
'Tis my summoning call in the owl's hoot you hear
To meet merry again on All Hallow's next year.
