James Brunton 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 sole 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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Comments about this poem (Check by James Brunton Stephens )
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William Ernest Henley
- ....and then an empty morning sky, RIC S. BASTASA
- Magnitude Of Life, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- At present, hasmukh amathalal
- and then the night swallows her includin.., RIC S. BASTASA
- Cupid Pari, binod bastola
- my eye has a patch on the inside, Mandolyn ...
- Final Moment, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- to always be the self amidst these cacop.., RIC S. BASTASA
- what should be forgotten next, RIC S. BASTASA
- feelings creep like vines on a trellis, RIC S. BASTASA