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.