The woman in the poem hides her isolation by becoming talkative and agreeable, especially around men who offer her both flattery and emptiness. Her chattering seems to shrink her melancholy, and her loneliness listens with tired, amused relief. But the real drama starts after she says good-night. Her social performance was only a way of holding herself together, a temporary fantasy. Alone at last, she imagines lifting a blade against her loneliness and grief, as if she might finally confront them. Yet she shakes her head, unable or unwilling to strike. The mood is subdued, intimate, and quietly sorrowful—someone fully aware of her own loneliness, but too resigned or afraid to end it.
Imaginary People: Woman — Summary
To hide your isolation, you become Tame and loquacious, bowing to the men Who bring you ornaments and poverties. Your cryptic melancholy dwindles then, Solved by the distant contrast of your words. Your loneliness, with an amused relief, Sits listening to your volubility And idling with an enervated grief. The play does not begin until you say Your last "good-night," for you have only made A swindled fantasy regain its parts. Throughout the night you held an unseen blade Upon your lap and trifled with its hilt, And now you lift it with submissive dread. Should you attack your loneliness and grief Now that they are asleep? You shake your head.