Two short stanzas, and the poem already feels bigger than its length. The first is a quiet admission: our words are tiny next to the whole night. The speaker seems to feel the weight of that darkness, how vast and wordless it is, and how little language can do to hold or explain it.
The second stanza turns into advice, almost like a warning or a rule passed along. Don't lie too long in one place at night. The title, "Night watchman," helps here. It suggests someone who stays alert and keeps moving, and who treats the night as something to be watched rather than simply slept through. Staying still might mean being swallowed by the dark, or by sleep, or by worry.
The mood is hushed, watchful and a little uneasy. There's humility in it, but also a kind of practical calm. The speaker doesn't fight the night; they just know to keep awake and keep moving through it.