The speaker sees the mountain peaks as a stopped army, their slopes shining with gold and green like helmets. In front of them, the sea looks like a pink veil. As the moon rises, it seems to pull that pink veil away and instead wrap itself in a mist colored gold and violet, as if putting on a ceremonial robe before entering the darkness of night as a holy place. The feeling is one of hushed awe. Nothing is moving violently; even the army is halted. The landscape becomes a quiet ritual, full of color but also stillness. The mood is dreamlike and reverent, mixing the power of mountains with the softness of evening light. It invites the reader to see dusk as a sacred, almost theatrical moment rather than just the end of the day.
The Mountain Peaks, a Halted Army — Summary
The mountain peaks, a halted army, Helmeted with gold and green; The sea before them a veil of pink That the moon casts away, To wear the gold-violet robe of mist Before entering the Shrine of night.