The midnight bell sets these wanderers shivering in body and soul. They lie on hard, cold surfaces—wood, stone, iron—and ache in every bone. Night brings no comfort: they cannot find the eyes of loved ones in the starlit sky, and they distrust the dark water nearby, fearing they might be drawn in the way a snake’s stare transfixes a bird. The mood is cold, watchful, and eerie, but also sympathetic. Some laugh half-mad, some stay mute through the chilly hours, some talk feebly like weak infants, and others cough with a deep, hoarse sound that seems too large for them. The poem never explains who these wanderers are, but the details make their homelessness and exhaustion vivid: they are present only in their discomfort, their fear, and their strange, broken voices in the dark.
Night Wanderers — Summary
They hear the bell of midnight toll, And shiver in their flesh and soul; They lie on hard, cold wood or stone, Iron, and ache in every bone; They hate the night: they see no eyes Of loved ones in the starlit skies. They see the cold, dark water near; They dare not take long looks for fear They'll fall like those poor birds that see A snake's eyes staring at their tree. Some of them laugh, half-mad; and some All through the chilly night are dumb; Like poor, weak infants some converse, And cough like giants, deep and hoarse.