The speaker treats the new moon like a small, lovely thing to be tried on and arranged. He imagines setting it above a hazy grouping of trees and farmhouses, wearing it like a jewel in the hair, or pairing it with one especially bright star. The game becomes freer in the second stanza: by walking slowly on another evening, he finds he can seem to pull the moon from a “crate of crooked trees,” carry it over glossy water, and drop it in, where its reflection shimmers and dissolves. The mood is whimsical and quietly delighted. The speaker isn’t trying to explain the moon; he’s enjoying how a shift in perspective lets him place it anywhere he pleases. There’s a childlike sense of power in that—an intimate, playful control over something vast and distant.
The Freedom of the Moon — Summary
I’ve tried the new moon tilted in the air Above a hazy tree-and-farmhouse cluster As you might try a jewel in your hair. I’ve tried it fine with little breadth of lustre, Alone, or in one ornament combining With one first-water star almost as shining.
I put it shining anywhere I please. By walking slowly on some evening later, I’ve pulled it from a crate of crooked trees, And brought it over glossy water, greater, And dropped it in, and seen the image wallow, The color run, all sorts of wonder follow.