On bright moonlit nights, a chain of barking breaks out across the valley and hills. Cornford gives the dogs funny, almost human voices. One dog is angry that the moon is so cold and bright, turning the world into something that looks like day but feels dead and gray. Another dog, hearing the noise from his straw bed, assumes an intruder is howling at the moon and decides to defend it. He barks back, telling the stranger to leave “our moon” alone. Other dogs pick up the cry farther and farther away.
The speaker seems amused and a little fond of this misunderstanding. The mood is playful and slightly eerie: the night is beautiful but lonely, and the dogs’ protectiveness feels both silly and strangely moving. Their voices echo beyond the fields, leaving a sense of distance and restless energy.