Behold them, my soul: they are truly frightful! like mannequins, vaguely ridiculous, terrible, singular as sleepwalkers, aiming their darkened orbs who knows where.
Their eyes, devine spark gone, as if gazing intoÂ the distance, re-main lifted skyward; you never see them let their heavy heads sink dreaming toward the pavement.
so they traverse the illimitable dark, brother of eternal silence,
O city! while all around us you sing, you laugh, you bawl, smitten with pleasure to the point of atrocity, look! i drag my self along also! but, more bewildered than they,
I ask, All these blind people, what are they looking for in the sky…