How many watchers guard the barren way

In signal-towers, at stammering keys, to mark

The word the whispering horizons say!

To all that see and hark—

To all, alert and faithful in the night,

May there be Light!

On ruthless streets, on byways sad with sin—

Half-hated by the blinded ones you guard—

Guard well, lest crime unheeded enter in!

The dark is cruel and the vigil hard,