Jean Toomer’s “Evening Song” reads like a hushed lullaby spoken to a lover at night. The speaker watches a full moon rise and imagines it shining on the waters of his own heart, so the outer lake and his inner feeling become one. The woman he names Cloine is tired and barely awake, her lips slightly parted. He calls her sleep a promise and a kind of miracle, an evening prayer, and says he will soon follow her into rest. In the last stanza she is curled like moonlit water, glowing and dreaming with her lips against his heart. The poem feels calm, warm, and quietly sensual. It makes sleep and closeness seem almost sacred, turning a simple moment of falling asleep together into something radiant and still.
Evening Song — Summary
Full moon rising on the waters of my heart, Lakes and moon and fires, Cloine tires, Holding her lips apart.
Promises of slumber leaving shore to charm the moon, Miracle made vesper-keeps, Cloine sleeps, And I’ll be sleeping soon.
Cloine, curled like the sleepy waters where the moon-waves start, Radiant, resplendently she gleams, Cloine dreams, Lips pressed against my heart.