Men say, that in this midnight hour, The disembodied have power To wander as it liketh them, By wizard oak and fairy stream,— Through still and solemn places, And by old walls and tombs, to dream, With pale, cold, mournful faces....

'Tis now the very witching time of night, When churchyards yawn and hell itself breathes out Contagion to this world.

Eye of newt, and toe of frog,
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog.

My fell of hair
Would at a dismal treatise rouse and stir
As life were in ’t. I have supp’d full with horrors.

I don't know that there are real ghosts and goblins, but there are always more trick-or-treaters than neighborhood kids.