Forty yards of clearing Kept the houses from the pines Each day the village heat was drawn And spread to cool And even at eight bells I saw that night was forming Rags and strings and strips of shade Were lowered like a curtain at midday The stiffness of wet burlap And the nagging of the torrent Hissing somewhere underground I know it very well For I am drawn and spread Yes, streaming from the undergrowth Night arrived in search of me