But gin the auld fowks’ tales are richt
An’ ghaists come hame on Hallow nicht,
O freend o’ freends! what wad I gie
To feel ye rax yer hand to me
Atween the dark an’ caun’le-licht?

—Violet Jacob, “Hallowe’en”
first published in COUNTRY LIFE, 1920

Jacob’s only son, Harry, was killed at the Somme in 1916

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