After a loved one departs, the speaker feels herself draining of color and light. She has grown pale, her hair has lost its gleam, and she moves through the world as a grey-eyed wanderer in lonely places. The grief is not loud or violent; it arrives like evening and moonlight, white and quiet. She says her heart holds moonlight like white rain on the sea, and she and the evening seem to merge into one. Love has diminished to a gentle moan, remembrance, a folded wing, because the person she dreamed of stepped away into shadow as softly as a dove. What remains are memories that rise like white roses in a silver bowl—beautiful but frail, pale and easily bruised. The mood is hushed, sorrowful, and still, with a strange tenderness in all that silver-grey fading.
Nocturne — Summary
I have grown pale and paler Since one went away, Who passed from me as softly As daylight leaves the day.
My hair has lost its gleaming, The light has left my face, I am a grey-eyed wanderer In any lonely place.
And on my heart is moonlight Like white rain on the sea. And I am of the evening As the evening is of me.
A gentle moan, remembrance, A folded wing is love, Since my dream stepped into shadow On the soft feet of a dove.
Now when thoughts of him arise And open in my soul, They are frailer than white roses In a silver bowl.