The Sleepers

    Stepping with light feet， swiftly and noiselessly stepping and

    stopping，

    Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of sleepers¹，

    Wandering and confused， lost to myself， ill-assorted，

    contradictory²，

    Pausing， gazing， bending， and stopping.

    How solemn they look there， stretch'd and still，

    How quiet they breathe， the little children in their cradles.

    The wretched features of ennuyès， the white features of

    corpses³， the livid faces of drunkards， the sick- gray faces

    of onanists，

    The gash'd bodies on battle-fields， the insane in their strong-

    door'd rooms， the sacred idiots， the new-born emerging

    from gates， and the dying emerging from gates，

    The night pervades⁴ them and infolds them.

    The married couple sleep calmly in their bed， he with his

    palm on the hip⁵ of the wife， and she with her palm on the

    hip of the husband，

    The sisters sleep lovingly side by side in their bed，

    The men sleep lovingly side by side in theirs，

    And the mother sleeps with her little child carefully wrapt.

    The blind sleep， and the deaf and dumb sleep，

    The prisoner sleeps well in the prison， the runaway⁶ son

    sleeps，

    The murderer that is to be hung next day， how does he sleep？

    And the murder'd person， how does he sleep？

    The female that loves unrequited sleeps，

    And the male that loves unrequited sleeps，

    The head of the money-maker that plotted all day sleeps，

    And the enraged⁷ and treacherous⁸ dispositions⁹， all， all sleep.

    I stand in the dark with drooping¹⁰ eyes by the worst-suffering

    and the most restless，

    I pass my hands soothingly¹¹ to and fro a few inches from

    them，

    The restless sink in their beds， they fitfully sleep.

    Now I pierce the darkness， new beings appear，

    The earth recedes¹² from me into the night，

    I saw that it was beautiful， and I see that what is not the

    earth is beautiful.

    I go from bedside to bedside， I sleep close with the other

    sleepers each in turn，

    I dream in my dream all the dreams of the other dreamers，

    And I become the other dreamers.

    I am a dance - play up there！ the fit is whirling me fast！

    I am the ever-laughing - it is new moon and twilight¹³，

    I see the hiding of douceurs， I see nimble ghosts whichever

    way I look，

    Cache and cache again deep in the ground and sea， and where

    it is neither ground nor sea.

    Well do they do their jobs those journeymen divine，

    Only from me can they hide nothing， and would not if they

    could，

    I reckon I am their boss and they make me a pet besides，

    And surround me and lead me and run ahead when I walk，

    To lift their cunning covers to signify me with stretch'd arms，

    and resume the way；

    Onward¹⁴ we move， a gay gang of blackguards！ with mirth-

    shouting music and wild-flapping pennants¹⁵ of joy！

    I am the actor， the actress， the voter， the politician，

    The emigrant¹⁶ and the exile， the criminal that stood in the box，

    He who has been famous and he who shall be famous after

    to-day，

    The stammerer¹⁷， the well- formed person， the wasted or feeble

    person.

    I am she who adorn'd herself and folded her hair expectantly，

    My truant¹⁸ lover has come， and it is dark.

    Double yourself and receive me darkness，

    Receive me and my lover too， he will not let me go without

    him.