Carl Sandburg catches a brief moment just as the moon slips below the horizon. Poplar leaves stand out like Japanese woodblock prints against the western sky, and the moon’s reflection on the canal makes a second, shimmering version of the scene. The speaker is not only describing a pretty landscape; he watches it disappear. When the moon leaves, the pictures end. The west, then everything, becomes empty. There is no more moon-talk, only darkness listening to darkness. The mood is hushed and a little lonely. It feels like standing in the quiet after a performance, when the light goes out and you are left with stillness. The poem holds that instant of loss and makes it feel strangely beautiful.
Moonset — Summary
Leaves of poplars pick Japanese prints against the west. Moon sand on the canal doubles the changing pictures. The moon's good-by ends pictures. The west is empty. All else is empty. No moon-talk at all now. Only dark listening to dark.