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1 I WANDER all night in my vision, Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly step- 
 ping and stopping,
Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of sleepers, Wandering and confused, lost to myself, ill-assorted, 
Pausing, gazing, bending, and stopping.
2How solemn they look there, stretch'd and still! How quiet they breathe, the little children in their  
3The wretched features of ennuyés, the white fea- 
 tures of corpses, 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 emer- 
 ging from gates,
The night pervades them and infolds them.
4The married couple sleep calmly in their bed—he  
 with his palm on the hip 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  
  [ begin page 320 ]ppp.00473.320.jpg 5The blind sleep, and the deaf and dumb sleep, The prisoner sleeps well in the prison—the run-away  
 son sleeps;
The murderer that is to be hung next day—how does  
 he sleep?
And the murder'd person—how does he sleep?
6The female that loves unrequited sleeps, And the male that loves unrequited sleeps, The head of the money-maker that plotted all day  
And the enraged and treacherous dispositions—all, 
 all sleep.


7I stand in the dark with drooping eyes by the  
 worst-suffering and the most restless,
I pass my hands soothingly to and fro a few inches  
 from them,
The restless sink in their beds—they fitfully sleep.
8Now I pierce the darkness—new beings appear, The earth recedes from me into the night, I saw that it was beautiful, and I see that what is not  
 the earth is beautiful.
9I 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  
And I become the other dreamers.


10I am a dance—Play up, there! the fit is whirling  
 me fast!
11I am the ever-laughing—it is new moon and twi- 
  [ begin page 321 ]ppp.00473.321.jpg 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 or sea.
12Well do they do their jobs, those journeymen di- 
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  
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;
Onward we move! a gay gang of blackguards! with  
 mirth-shouting music, and wild-flapping pen- 
 nants of joy!
13I am the actor, the actress, the voter, the politician; The emigrant 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 stammerer, the well-form'd person, the wasted or  
 feeble person.
14I am she who adorn'd herself and folded her hair  
My truant lover has come, and it is dark.
15Double yourself and receive me, darkness! Receive me and my lover too—he will not let me go  
 without him.
16I roll myself upon you, as upon a bed—I resign  
 myself to the dusk.
17He whom I call answers me, and takes the place of  
 my lover,
He rises with me silently from the bed.
  [ begin page 322 ]ppp.00473.322.jpg 18Darkness! you are gentler than my lover—his flesh  
 was sweaty and panting,
I feel the hot moisture yet that he left me.
19My hands are spread forth, I pass them in all direc- 
I would sound up the shadowy shore to which you are  
20Be careful, darkness! already, what was it touch'd  
I thought my lover had gone, else darkness and he are  
I hear the heart-beat—I follow, I fade away.
21O hot-cheek'd and blushing! O foolish hectic! O for pity's sake, no one must see me now! my clothes  
 were stolen while I was abed,
Now I am thrust forth, where shall I run?
22Pier that I saw dimly last night, when I look'd from  
 the windows!
Pier out from the main, let me catch myself with you, 
 and stay—I will not chafe you,
I feel ashamed to go naked about the world.
23I am curious to know where my feet stand—and  
 what this is flooding me, childhood or manhood  
 —and the hunger that crosses the bridge  
24The cloth laps a first sweet eating and drinking, Laps life-swelling yolks—laps ear of rose-corn, milky  
 and just ripen'd;
The white teeth stay, and the boss-tooth advances in  
And liquor is spill'd on lips and bosoms by touching  
 glasses, and the best liquor afterward.
  [ begin page 323 ]ppp.00473.323.jpg


25I descend my western course, my sinews are flaccid, Perfume and youth course through me, and I am their  
26It is my face yellow and wrinkled, instead of the  
 old woman's,
I sit low in a straw-bottom chair, and carefully darn  
 my grandson's stockings.
27It is I too, the sleepless widow, looking out on the  
 winter midnight,
I see the sparkles of starshine on the icy and pallid  
28A shroud I see, and I am the shroud—I wrap a body, 
 and lie in the coffin,
It is dark here under ground—it is not evil or pain  
 here—it is blank here, for reasons.
29It seems to me that everything in the light and air  
 ought to be happy,
Whoever is not in his coffin and the dark grave, let  
 him know he has enough.


30I see a beautiful gigantic swimmer, swimming naked  
 through the eddies of the sea,
His brown hair lies close and even to his head—he  
 strikes out with courageous arms—he urges  
 himself with his legs,
I see his white body—I see his undaunted eyes, I hate the swift-running eddies that would dash him  
 head-foremost on the rocks.
31What are you doing, you ruffianly red-trickled waves? Will you kill the courageous giant? Will you kill him  
 in the prime of his middle age?
  [ begin page 324 ]ppp.00473.324.jpg 32Steady and long he struggles, He is baffled, bang'd, bruis'd—he holds out while his  
 strength holds out,
The slapping eddies are spotted with his blood—they  
 bear him away—they roll him, swing him, turn  
His beautiful body is borne in the circling eddies, it is  
 continually bruis'd on rocks,
Swiftly and out of sight is borne the brave corpse.


33I turn, but do not extricate myself, Confused, a past-reading, another, but with darkness  
34The beach is cut by the razory ice-wind—the wreck- 
 guns sound,
The tempest lulls—the moon comes floundering  
 through the drifts.
35I look where the ship helplessly heads end on—I  
 hear the burst as she strikes—I hear the howls  
 of dismay—they grow fainter and fainter.
36I cannot aid with my wringing fingers, I can but rush to the surf, and let it drench me and  
 freeze upon me.
37I search with the crowd—not one of the company is  
 wash'd to us alive;
In the morning I help pick up the dead and lay them  
 in rows in a barn.


38Now of the old war-days, the defeat at Brooklyn, Washington stands inside the lines—he stands on the  
 intrench'd hills, amid a crowd of officers,
  [ begin page 325 ]ppp.00473.325.jpg His face is cold and damp—he cannot repress the  
 weeping drops,
He lifts the glass perpetually to his eyes—the color is  
 blanch'd from his cheeks,
He sees the slaughter of the southern braves confided  
 to him by their parents.
39The same, at last and at last, when peace is declared, He stands in the room of the old tavern—the well- 
 beloved soldiers all pass through,
The officers speechless and slow draw near in their  
The chief encircles their necks with his arm, and  
 kisses them on the cheek,
He kisses lightly the wet cheeks one after another—  
 he shakes hands, and bids good-by to the army.


40Now I tell what my mother told me to-day as we  
 sat at dinner together,
Of when she was a nearly grown girl, living home  
 with her parents on the old homestead.
41A red squaw came one breakfast-time to the old  
On her back she carried a bundle of rushes for rush- 
 bottoming chairs,
Her hair, straight, shiny, coarse, black, profuse, half- 
 envelop her face,
Her step was free and elastic, and her voice sounded  
 exquisitely as she spoke.
42My mother look'd in delight and amazement at the  
She look'd at the freshness of her tall-borne face, and  
 full and pliant limbs,
The more she look'd upon her, she loved her, M2   [ begin page 326 ]ppp.00473.326.jpg Never before had she seen such wonderful beauty and  
She made her sit on a bench by the jamb of the fire- 
 place—she cook'd food for her,
She had no work to give her, but she gave her re- 
 membrance and fondness.
43The red squaw staid all the forenoon, and toward  
 the middle of the afternoon she went away,
O my mother was loth to have her go away! All the week she thought of her—she watch'd for her  
 many a month,
She remember'd her many a winter and many a  
But the squaw never came, nor was heard of there  


44Now Lucifer was not dead—or if he was, I am his  
 sorrowful terrible heir;
I have been wrong'd—I am oppress'd—I hate him  
 that oppresses me,
I will either destroy him, or he shall release me.
45Damn him! how he does defile me! How he informs against my brother and sister, and  
 takes pay for their blood!
How he laughs when I look down the bend, after the  
 steamboat that carries away my woman!
46Now the vast dusk bulk that is the whale's bulk, it  
 seems mine;
Warily, sportsman! though I lie so sleepy and slug- 
 gish, the tap of my flukes is death.


47A show of the summer softness! a contact of some- 
 thing unseen! an amour of the light and air!
  [ begin page 327 ]ppp.00473.327.jpg I am jealous, and overwhelm'd with friendliness, And will go gallivant with the light and air myself, And have an unseen something to be in contact with  
 them also.
48O love and summer! you are in the dreams, and in  
Autumn and winter are in the dreams—the farmer  
 goes with his thrift,
The droves and crops increase, and the barns are well- 
49Elements merge in the night—ships make tacks in  
 the dreams,
The sailor sails—the exile returns home, The fugitive returns unharm'd—the immigrant is  
 back beyond months and years,
The poor Irishman lives in the simple house of his  
 childhood, with the well-known neighbors and  
They warmly welcome him—he is barefoot again, he  
 forgets he is well off;
The Dutchman voyages home, and the Scotchman and  
 Welshman voyage home, and the native of the  
 Mediterranean voyages home,
To every port of England, France, Spain, enter well- 
 fill ships,
The Swiss foots it to toward his hills—the Prussian goes  
 his way, the Hungarian his way, and the Pole  
 his way,
The Swede returns, and the Dane and Norwegian re- 


50The homeward bound, and the outward bound, The beautiful lost swimmer, the ennuyé, the onanist, 
 the female that loves unrequited, the money- 
  [ begin page 328 ]ppp.00473.328.jpg The actor and actress, those through with their parts  
 and those waiting to commence,
The affectionate boy, the husband and wife, the voter, 
 the nominee that is chosen, and the nominee  
 that has fail'd,
The great already known, and the great any time  
 after to-day,
The stammerer, the sick, the perfect-form'd, the  
The criminal that stood in the box, the judge that  
 sat and sentenced him, the fluent lawyers, the  
 jury, the audience,
The laugher and weeper, the dancer, the midnight  
 widow, the red squaw,
The consumptive, the erysipelite, the idiot, he that is  
The antipodes, and every one between this and them  
 in the dark,
I swear they are averaged now—one is no better than  
 the other,
The night and sleep have liken'd them and restored  
51I swear they are all beautiful; Every one that sleeps is beautiful—everything in the  
 dim light is beautiful,
The wi1dest and bloodiest is over, and all is peace.
52Peace is always beautiful, The myth of heaven indicates peace and night. 53The myth of heaven indicates the Soul; The Soul is always beautiful—it appears more or it  
 appears less—it comes, or it lags behind,
It comes from its embower'd garden, and looks  
 pleasantly on itself, and encloses the world,
Perfect and clean the genitals previously jetting, and  
 perfect and clean the womb cohering,
  [ begin page 329 ]ppp.00473.329.jpg The head well-grown, proportion'd and plumb, and  
 the bowels and joints proportion'd and plumb.
54The Soul is always beautiful, The universe is duly in order, everything is in its  
What has arrived is in its place, and what waits is in  
 its place;
The twisted skull waits, the watery or rotten blood  
The child of the glutton or venerealee waits long, and  
 the child of the drunkard waits long, and the  
 drunkard himself waits long,
The sleepers that lived and died wait—the far ad- 
 vanced are to go on in their turns, and the far  
 behind are to come on in their turns,
The diverse shall be no less diverse, but they shall  
 flow and unite—they unite now.


55The sleepers are very beautiful as they lie unclothed, They flow hand in hand over the whole earth, from  
 east to west, as they lie unclothed,
The Asiatic and African are hand in hand—the Eu- 
 ropean and American are hand in hand,
Learn'd and unlearn'd are hand in hand, and male  
 and female are hand in hand,
The bare arm of the girl crosses the bare breast of  
 her lover—they press close without lust—his  
 lips press her neck,
The father holds his grown or ungrown son in his  
 arms with measureless love, and the son holds  
 the father in his arms with measureless love,
The white hair of the mother shines on the white  
 wrist of the daughter,
The breath of the boy goes with the breath of the  
 man, friend is inarm'd by friend,
The scholar kisses the teacher, and the teacher kisses  
 the scholar—the wrong'd is made right,
  [ begin page 330 ]ppp.00473.330.jpg The call of the slave is one with the master's call, and  
 the master salutes the slave,
The felon steps forth from the prison—the insane  
 becomes sane—the suffering of sick persons is  
The sweatings and fevers stop—the throat that was  
 unsound is sound—the lungs of the consump- 
 tive are resumed—the poor distres't head is  
The joints of the rheumatic move as smoothly as ever, 
 and smoother than ever,
Stiflings and passages open—the paralyzed become  
The swell'd and convuls'd and congested awake to  
 themselves in condition,
They pass the invigoration of the night, and the  
 chemistry of the night, and awake.


56I too pass from the night, I stay a while away, O night, but I return to you  
 again, and love you.
57Why should I be afraid to trust myself to you? I am not afraid—I have been well brought forward by  
I love the rich running day, but I do not desert her  
 in whom I lay so long.
I know not how I came of you, and I know not where  
 I go with you—but I know I came well, and  
 shall go well.
58I will stop only a time with the night, and rise be- 
I will duly pass the day, O my mother, and duly  
 return to you.
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