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James Stephens - Check
Work rating: Medium

      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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