A speaker stands in a deepening shadow—a cloud of dread about an unknown future darkens him. He knows he’ll soon journey across the States, but he can’t say where or how long, and he imagines his voice suddenly stopping, mid-song. The mood is hushed, uncertain gloom. Then the poem breaks into a question: must all his books and chants amount only to this vague dread, this mere beginning? And yet, turning to his soul, he finds a startling calm: we have positively appeared—that is enough. It’s a moment of radical acceptance, where fear of ending meets gratitude for having existed. The opening feels heavy, like a sky before a storm; the close is gentle, a hand laid on the heart.
As the Time Draws Nigh. — Summary
1 AS the time draws nigh, glooming, a cloud, A dread beyond, of I know not what, darkens me.
I shall go forth, I shall traverse The States awhile—but I cannot tell whither or how long; Perhaps soon, some day or night while I am singing, my voice will suddenly cease.
2 O book, O chants! must all then amount to but this? Must we barely arrive at this beginning of us?... And yet it is enough, O soul! O soul! we have positively appear’d—that is enough.