Geoffrey Wall
“And the moon was full.” — Tennyson.
AND so the year is dying in the night.
Another moment with its hopes and fears,
Another instant with its smiles and tears
Is passing to its fellows as I write.
Perchance, amidst the musical moonlight,
Across the valley of forgotten years,
Another stood; and watched the rolling spheres
That cleft the purple heavens in their flight;
And pondered on the meaning of it all:
But here the moonlit hours flow softly on,
Unheeding that o’er half the World a pall
Of unthought sorrow lies; and peace is gone
From many homes; and many men must fall
Before the dawning New Year dies anon.
December 31, 1914, 11.45 pm
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem captures the quiet, reflective moment of a year’s end, but it’s not a celebration. It’s heavy with the weight of war, with an awareness that while the moonlight may be peaceful, the world is not. The poet watches time slip away, recognizing that just as people before him have stood under the same moon and wondered about life, he too is caught in that endless cycle of passing years. But there’s no comfort in that realization.
The contrast between the beauty of the night and the reality of suffering is sharp. The moon shines the same way it always has, indifferent to the loss and destruction happening below. While one part of the world enjoys peace, another is swallowed by grief. The poet doesn’t just observe this divide—he feels it deeply. He knows that for many, the coming year won’t bring joy or renewal, only more bloodshed.
There’s something haunting about the way the poem moves between personal reflection and the broader tragedy of war. It starts with quiet contemplation and ends with an almost resigned acknowledgment that more lives will be lost before the next year is done. The peaceful moon, the rolling heavens, the flow of time—all of it continues as if nothing has changed. But for those caught in war, everything has.