I make His Crescent fill or lack—

I make His Crescent fill or lack—
His Nature is at Full
Or Quarter—as I signify—
His Tides—do I control—

He holds superior in the Sky
Or gropes, at my Command
Behind inferior Clouds—or round
A Mist's slow Colonnade—

But since We hold a Mutual Disc—
And front a Mutual Day—
Which is the Despot, neither knows—
Nor Whose—the Tyranny—


      -Fr837, J909, Fascicle 40, 1864


There is a power dynamic here between the sun and the moon. The sky, under Dickinson's watch, becomes a playground of power and sly reversals. The poet kicks off with a flourish of authority. “I make His Crescent fill or lack— / His Nature is at Full / Or Quarter—as I signify— / His Tides—do I control—.” She’s the Sun, master of moon and tides. You can practically hear her delight in the audacity.

The sun/self signifies and therefore controls, which is why it is presented to us in the first person. 

If you are looking from the position of the Self, which we all are, after all, then you may realize that you have the have the ability to make another “superior in the Sky,” or you may make them crawl and “grope.”

But a turn around begins to happen in the second stanza. The other, the one being controlled, may be obscured by “inferior clouds,” but it will still shine through, and it will still “round/ A Mist’s slow Colonnade.” 

That last phrase is gorgeous. You imagine the atmosphere, in league with the sun, doing what it can to obscure the moon, by slowly erecting a colunnade. A colonnade is a row of columns, which is something we think of as quite solid. And note the ominous word "slow." But here the colonnade is shown to be merely a mist that the moon rounds. The moon not only shines through the inferior clouds but also gives depth, gives roundness, to the mist.  The word “Colonnade” is also perfect here because of the way it echoes the sounds of “control,” “Command” and “Clouds” which precede it. 

In the third stanza we get a new idea hinging on the word “since.”

But since We hold a Mutual Disc—
And front a Mutual Day—
Which is the Despot, neither knows—
Nor Whose—the Tyranny—

 So if you are reading this from the Sun/self’s point of view, the poem presents to you the idea that your power is ultimately illusory. But if you are the "other," the one under control, this poem becomes about resilience.

The moon, quietly, survives. Hidden behind clouds or quartered in phase, it holds its disc, keeps its rhythm. The moon’s sovereignty is cheeky. It refuses to be fully dominated. It exhibits endurance and autonomy, all under the radar of a would-be master. The moon may be perceived as quartered, but to itself it is always full, and there is always a new chance to shine, always a new day to “front.”

Dickinson is showing us that power is never as tidy as we think. Authority is provisional and sovereignty comes in hidden strength. Even when domination seems total, resilience quietly asserts itself.

We are reminded to remember our innate roundness and keep our rhythm.

        -/)dam Wade l)eGraff


P.S. This poem seems to be an elaboration of sorts of the poem that precedes it in the fascicle, Fr836. There, death is the great equalizer. In the grave, distinctions vanish. Here, life itself levels the playing field. The sun may shine, the speaker may boast, but the moon persists.

Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh.