Fletcher gives us a quiet, almost trance-like glimpse of a night sky. Grey clouds drift over what he calls a polished mirror—a smooth, empty darkness without any star. The repetition of “the clouds pass” makes the scene feel slow and hypnotic, as if the speaker has been watching long enough to sink into the rhythm. Then the mood shifts slightly: one “disengaged” star breaks through and flashes, just for a moment, before the cold and the rolling clouds close back over it. The speaker feels small and patient under that vast sky—aware of the cold, the silence, and the rare, fleeting beauty of a single light. The overall mood is calm, a little lonely, and meditative, like holding your breath in the dark until something bright appears and then vanishes.
Irradiations XIX — Summary
The clouds pass Over the polished mirror of the sky: The clouds pass, puffs of grey, There is no star.
The clouds pass slowly: Suddenly a disengaged star flashes. The night is cold and the clouds Roll slowly over the sky.