Wednesday, September 17, 2014

CHECK by James Stephens


The night was creeping on the ground;

She crept, and did not make a sound.

Until she reached the tree, and then

She covered it, and stole again

Along the grass beside the wall,

I heard the rustle of her shawl

As she threw blackness everywhere

Upon the sky and ground and air,

And in the room where I was hid.

But no matter what she did

To everything that was without

She could not put my candle out

So I stared at the night, and she

Stared back, solemnly, at me.

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