Two moods are imagined as beings. One is burnt out, carrying a heart like “a flagon of ashes”; the other is saturated with the smell of “sleeping wine-songs.” They meet intimately—the second kisses the first and breathes a “pale purple breath” into that emptiness. For a moment, something ghostly and almost beautiful fills the spent mood. Then both die, and the old man who bore them sits down to make others. The voice is distant and melancholy, as if watching emotions rise, touch, vanish, and return. The mood is dreamlike and autumnal, caught between intoxication and exhaustion. It suggests that feelings, or even poems, are made from such brief meetings—ashes given breath before they fade.
Meeting — Summary
A mood whose heart was a flagon of ashes, Met another mood whose lips were stained With the odors of sleeping wine-songs. The second mood kissed the breast of the first And filled the ashen flagon with his pale purple breath. Then the two moods died, and he who bore them, Being an old man, sat down to make others.