In the pale light of a winter dawn, the speaker watches a waning moon hanging near a bare cottonwood tree, its bright side turned away from the rising sun. Everything is still and cold, but not bleak. The moon’s silence reminds him of the Sea of Galilee after Christ calms the storm with the words “Peace, be still.” That comparison gives the scene a reverent, almost sacred hush.
The year is ending, and the moon itself seems to be fading, yet the speaker finds it achingly beautiful. When others might call it dead or diminished, he sees quiet dignity instead. His final wish—to seem just as beautiful in death—turns the image of the old year’s last moon into a meditation on dying gracefully and without fear. The mood is serene, contemplative, and touched with longing.