A bleak evening scene unfolds: a solitary willow’s shadow swings with a ghostly motion, roads disappear into pale, age-white mist, and a strange green light drifts far off like a wandering fairy. The repeated “ghastly, ghastly” makes the willow feel less like a plant than a troubled presence. Nothing feels solid or safe. Even the roads offer no direction.
The speaker seems alone and uneasy, and that feeling intensifies at the end. A wild cry is heard not from one source but in the dark air, the stream, and the stars, as if sorrow or alarm echoes through the whole world. The title “Tragedy” hints that this is more than an eerie landscape—the outer gloom reflects some deep inner pain. The mood is hushed, uncanny, and mournful, like standing at dusk on a path that has vanished.