The Sleepers By Walt Whitman

I wander all night in my vision,Stepping with light feet, swiftly and noiselessly stepping and stopping,Bending with open eyes over the shut eyes of sleepers,Wandering and confused, lost to myself, ill-assorted, contradictory,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…