here, but none are clearly satisfied by the poem
itself. But why conceal these details? Vague and
unreachable, this shifting ambiguity adds to the
darkness that envelops it, which, in turn, esca-
lates the significance of conscience. Thereby, the
conscience is magnified to great proportions,
making it a prodigious force that deserves reck-
oning in this portrait of the modern mind. Being
vast and deep, the conscience reaches mytholog-
ical proportions deserving of an archetype its
own. The poem, however, supplies no single
image to serve this function; instead, it is
achieved in the interplay of the elements: the
persona, his actions, the watchman, and the
reader. The attentive reader joins in the response
to the ambiguity of the cry. Frost, in effect,
simulates in the persona our experience in read-
ing the poem. And we encounter our own watch-
man and experience a modern creation myth in
artistic form. The invitation to the reader rever-
berates just as the interrupted cry resounds over
the houses and over our residence in the fallow
certainty of self-assurance.
Immersed in vast darkness, the persona
decides to move ‘‘further still’’ (Frost, 11) into
the third part of the journey. First, he ventured
out into the night. Second, he ‘‘outwalked the
furthest city light.’’ Third, he moves ‘‘further
still,’’ beyond the cry, with the sight of ‘‘one lumi-
nary clock against the sky’’ (Frost, 12). Residing
‘‘at an unearthly height’’ (Frost, 11), the moon
remains apart from the physical domain of the
persona. Here the moon contrasts with darkness,
adding yet another contrast to a long series: the
persona’s walking and stopping, the cry and
conscience, the earth and the height of the
moon, the dropping of eyes and raising them.
The moon, a symbol of permanent change and
resurrection, rotates and at the same time
revolves around the earth. It works in time as an
agent of time, enveloped in the cycle it measures.
This is the exponent of the cyclical nature of the
poem, as it is formed and enveloped within the
ideas it measures. The moon, however, can be
quite problematic for the person who sees it sim-
ply. If we watch the moon’s changing phases
night after night, times seems to move forward.
But if we observe the moon tonight and then
again in twenty-nine days, time seems to remain
the same. Our mistake is in imposing our idea of
time onto the universe. As one large comprehen-
sive system, the universe moves with the same
impersonality that the persona creates in encoun-
tering the poem’s various scenes. Only the moon
offsets the enshrouding darkness; only this ‘‘lumi-
nary clock’’ can enlighten the persona to its arche-
typal qualities: it is ‘‘the first celestial stop
of... spiritual flight to God’s throne’’ (Campbell,
Myths,233). It is also ‘‘the residence of the souls
of those who have passed away and are there
waiting to return for rebirth. For the moon, as
we see it, dies and is resurrected’’ (Campbell,
Myths,235). In short, the moon represents the
human soul striving for spiritual fulfillment, and
the persona becomes aware of this in the moon’s
proclamation.
The description of the moon as a ‘‘cloak
against the sky’’ implies a few things. As a symbol
of our perception of time, the moon both spans and
divides the past and the present. In this way, the
personified moon verifies and proclaims itself, as a
symbol of the self-verification sought by the per-
sona. But Frost sets theplan askew in a certain
word choice. The personasees the clock in a posi-
tion ‘‘against the sky’’ (my italics). Each of several
meanings for ‘‘against’’ can work, with each alter-
ing the poem’s direction. If we read ‘‘against’’ to
mean ‘‘in contrast to,’’ the moon and the persona
stand out apart from the darkness. If we read
‘‘against’’ to mean ‘‘in opposition to,’’ the moon
counters the darkness. If we read ‘‘against’’ to
mean ‘‘press on or push,’’ the moon defers the
effects of darkness. If we read ‘‘against’’ to mean
‘‘next to, or adjoining,’’ the moon is integrally tied
to the darkness. The most appropriate reading I see
combines two of the above four. The persona looks
to the moon and its luminescence in consolation
and in seeking a response to the ‘‘interrupted cry.’’
He supposes the moon is in contrast to the sur-
rounding darkness. But because the moon ‘‘Pro-
claimed the time was neither wrong nor right,’’ the
persona realizes that the alluring moon and its
inability to breach his own ambivalence is adjoined
to and part of the darkness. In other words, a moral
being discovers his intuitive and mythical affection
for an amoral universe,a universe that seems to
invite human passion. Consequently, the persona is
stunned. The universe, it seems to him, must be
loved although it doesn’t love. But given this
human condition, the persona must choose a
response. As a result, the persona’s loneliness inten-
sifies in the choice. The poem taps the streams of
the conscious, the unconscious, and the conscience
through the interplay of archetypal forces that ini-
tially seem, through symbols, to lie beyond him but
are very much a part of him. Unfortunately, the
quest to alleviate the persona’s burden is not
achieved. Fortunately, the very act of searching isAcquainted with the Night