To the man who tends the garden little brother said today—
“We want a yellow pumpkin, very round”;
And the wind among the corn-stalks, where we stood a-hand-in-hand
Made a funny little rattling sort of sound;
It was very bright and frosty, and the man said, “Come with me,—
I will find you what you want, if you will wait”;
Then he took us through the corn-lines past the heavy apple trees;
There were piles of yellow pumpkins by the gate.
And he asked, “To make a pie with? or to roll upon the ground?”
And he smiled when little brother shook his head;
Then, “I really won’t be guessing, but I think I know the kind—
I was little once myself, you know,” he said;
And we looked at him and twinkled, while he hunted all about,
Till he got the very roundest of them all;
Then he made a wink at brother, and a funny face at me,
And he set the pumpkin up upon the wall.
“‘Tis the king of all the others!” cried the cheery garden-man;
“I’ll be scooping out the middle, if you say”;
And we told him “Yes” in whispers, for it was our secret plan,
And we watched him while he cut the heart away;
Then he asked us—“And his eyes? Shall his nose be long and wise?
Shall he have a ragged, jagged sort of smile?”
And we told the garden-man, “Please, as quickly as you can;
We can only wait a very little while.”
Then he laid the knife beside him, as he said, “Here is the man;
He’ll be looking very happy with a light”;
And we rolled him in our jackets, as we thanked the garden-man,
And we hurried home to wait until the night;
Then a little moon is shining; then we’ll hide behind the wall,
And we’ll put the yellow candle in its place;
In the pretty lighted windows of the children that we know,
While the fathers read the papers, and the mothers sit and sew,
There will shine a merry Jack O’Lantern face.
