Poems (Forrest)/Goblin time
GOBLIN TIME
Before the stars have found their way With twinkling wicks about the sky,And when the big red staring sun Has winked to let the ghosts get by,Oh, keep to the veranda steps, For where the yellow grass was shornYou yet may hear the goblin feet Like rustling leaves across the lawn!
Before the twilight monks have told Their beads of every glimmering pool;Before the shearer of the clouds Has clipped away the ragged wool;And ere the stars their lanterns hang On Heaven's fence in silver rimeAnd all the earth is turning grey, Keep near the door—it's goblin time!
In goblin time, the iron tank— A harmless creature in its way—Grows like some awful giant's head That crouched behind our house all day.The clothes-line hanging in the yard With fluttering humble things upon,Has changed into a gallows tree That holds a dangling skeleton.
And in the bushes where you played The jasmine, deutzia, or rose,That knew but butterfly and bee, Some puffing, unseen dragon blows.The quince hedge is no hedge at all— Where you could cut a friendly switch—But with a screen of leaf it hides A broomstick trotting for a witch.
The grape-vine trellis, where you left Your top and ball: You wouldn't dare—It is so black and quivering— To go to seek your treasure there.For all the cold and secret hands That have the ghost-hour in their gripWould follow you. And just suppose Your knees should fail; your foot should slip.
You're brave enough. Of course you are! You swam right over the lagoon,You crossed the paddock, when the bull Was bellowing—But that was noon. . .The fowl-house—all that glimmering white That seemed to-day like streaks of lime—Those are the bones of murdered boys. Oh, run inside! . . . It's goblin time!