This week’s choice is “Acquainted with the Night” by Robert Frost and I have chosen it because it has a resonance with my experiences.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
Robert Frost (1874—1963)
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
Poem 301. Acquainted with the Night
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I have walked out in rain—and back in rain.
I have outwalked the furthest city light.
I have looked down the saddest city lane.
I have passed by the watchman on his beat
And dropped my eyes, unwilling to explain.
I have stood still and stopped the sound of feet
When far away an interrupted cry
Came over houses from another street,
But not to call me back or say good-bye;
And further still at an unearthly height,
One luminary clock against the sky
Proclaimed the time was neither wrong nor right.
I have been one acquainted with the night.
This sonnet seems to me to speak of loneliness—we see a solitary person who walks abroad after dark, apparently unwilling to socialise, but it might also represent the feelings of isolation we feel in the grip of depression.
The first stanza introduces our narrator as one who lives much of their life nocturnally: they walk abroad in the worst of weather and travel far beyond the boundaries of the city. Looking at it another way, they are acquainted with the black thoughts of depression, the days spent in its grip where the rain never seems to stop and the isolation it brings, putting one outside the light of human society and friendship.
The second stanza shows the narrator on their supposed peregrinations, walking along the gloomiest of roads and passing the watchman as he pursues his duties but not stopping to discuss their presence. Again, this can be interpreted as the jaundiced view of the world that the influence of depression brings and the diffidence and unwillingness to discuss our problems even with those who are best qualified to help us.
In the third stanza we see the narrator halt as a cry that ends suddenly echoes around the desolate streets—is this a cry for help in the real world of their nightly rambles or a more figurative cry reflecting their mental state?
The fourth stanza runs on, telling us that the cry is not one beckoning them back or wishing them farewell—just a chilling scream that simply jars the ears and might easily be a silent scream of one undergoing extreme mental stress. Even the moon is distant, further away than the cry and “at an unearthly height”. It is almost unrecognisable and seen only as a luminous disc like a clock face that (moving on to the last two lines) represents a time “neither wrong nor right”—the nebulous time where all who have lost interest in the real world live—all those who are “acquainted with the night”.
I like it because it has a double meaning and because it conveys the negative feelings associated with isolation and depression very well.
A friend who has suffered depression worse than mine reminded me once of the lines from the finale of Les Miserables:
Do you hear the people sing
Lost in the valley of the night
It is the music of a people
Who are climbing to the lightFor the wretched of the earth
Do You Hear the People Sing (Epilogue) from Les Misérables by Alain Boublil and Claude Michel Schönberg, English lyrics by Herbert Kretzmer
There is a flame that never dies
Even the darkest night will end
And the sun will rise.
In the depths of my blackest moods, I believed in my heart that “even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise”. I have been fortunate in my struggles with “the black dog” that I have had the support of friends and family as well as this blog which has allowed me to explore and express my feelings. I also recently had a series of counselling sessions that helped me very much and finally and most importantly I met someone who dispels any negative feelings.