A Night in March
By Duncan Campbell Scott
At eve the fiery sun went forth
Flooding the clouds with ruby blood,
Up roared a war-wind from the north
And crashed at midnight through the wood.
The demons danced about the trees,
The snow slipped singing over the wold,
And ever when the wind would cease
A lynx cried out within the cold.
A spirit walked the ringing rooms,
Passing the locked and secret door,
Heavy with divers ancient dooms,
With dreams dead laden to the core.
‘Spirit, thou art too deep with woe,
I have no harbour place for thee,
Leave me to lesser griefs, and go,
Go with the great wind to the sea.’
I faltered like a frightened child,
That fears its nurse’s fairy brood,
And as I spoke, I heard the wild
Wind plunging through the shattered wood.
‘Hast thou betrayed the rest of kings,
With tragic fears and spectres wan,
My dreams are lit with purer things,
With humbler ghosts, begone, begone.’
The noisy dark was deaf and blind,
Still the strange spirit strayed or stood,
And I could only hear the wind
Go roaring through the riven wood.
‘Art thou the fate for some wild heart,
That scorned his cavern’s curve and bars,
That leaped the bounds of time and art,
And lost thee lingering near the stars?’
It was so still I heard my thought,
Even the wind was very still,
The desolate deeper silence brought
The lynx-moan from the lonely hill.
‘Art thou the thing I might have been,
If all the dead had known control,
Risen through the ages’ trembling sheen,
A mirage of my desert soul?’
The wind rushed down the roof in wrath,
Then shrieked and held its breath and stood,
Like one who finds beside his path,
A dead girl in the marish wood.
‘Or have I ceased, as those who die
And leave the broken word unsaid,
Art thou the spirit ministry
That hovers round the newly dead?’
The auroras rose in solitude,
And wanly paled within the room,
The window showed an ebon rood,
Upon the blanched and ashen gloom.
I heard a voice within the dark,
That answered not my idle word,
I could not choose but pause and hark,
It was so magically stirred.
It grew within the quiet hour,
With the rose shadows on the wall,
It had a touch of ancient power,
A wild and elemental fall;
Its rapture had a dreaming close:
The dawn grew slowly on the wold,
Spreading in fragile veils of rose,
In tender lines of lemon-gold.
The world was turning into light,
Was sweeping into life and peace,
And folded in the fading night,
I felt the dawning sink and cease.
Poem Analysis:
Duncan Campbell Scott’s A Night in March is a deeply atmospheric and meditative poem that blends natural imagery, supernatural presence, and existential questioning to explore the tension between human consciousness and the vast, impersonal forces of nature and fate. It is a work layered with symbolism, evoking feelings of isolation, awe, and introspection in the face of both inner and outer storms.
Atmosphere and Setting: The Wild March Night
The poem opens with a vivid and almost apocalyptic description of a northern March evening:
At eve the fiery sun went forth / Flooding the clouds with ruby blood, / Up roared a war-wind from the north / And crashed at midnight through the wood.
Here, nature is animated with violent and vivid force. The "fiery sun" and "ruby blood" set a tone of turbulence and foreboding. Scott transforms the natural world into an almost mythic battlefield, where winds “roar” like warriors and demons “dance about the trees.” These elemental forces represent not only physical turmoil but the emotional and psychological unrest of the speaker.
The Spirit as a Symbol of Existential Burden
Into this stormy wilderness enters a mysterious spirit—uninvited, enigmatic, and burdened with “ancient dooms.” The speaker’s reaction to this spectral visitor is marked by fear and rejection:
‘Spirit, thou art too deep with woe, / I have no harbour place for thee...’
The spirit appears to represent the weight of history, personal regret, or even unrealized potential. The speaker repeatedly distances himself from it, attempting to deny its relevance to his own inner life. Yet, this spirit persists throughout the poem, reflecting the persistence of conscience, memory, or fate.
Interrogation of Identity and Regret
As the poem progresses, the speaker’s resistance gives way to deeper reflection. He begins to question the spirit’s origin and significance:
‘Art thou the thing I might have been, / If all the dead had known control, / Risen through the ages’ trembling sheen, / A mirage of my desert soul?’
Here, the poem turns inward, engaging in metaphysical and existential inquiry. The spirit becomes a mirror of the self—possibly the unrealized self, or the spiritual residue of abandoned paths. This shift marks a movement from fear to contemplation, from external conflict to internal reckoning.
Nature’s Indifference and the Role of Silence
Throughout the poem, Scott returns to the motif of sound—especially the wind, the lynx’s cry, and the silence between them. The wind is both a literal force and a metaphor for time, death, or divine indifference:
Still the strange spirit strayed or stood, / And I could only hear the wind / Go roaring through the riven wood.
The wind, despite its ferocity, is ultimately hollow—never offering answers, only echoing the speaker’s isolation. The silence becomes even more haunting, punctuated by the occasional cry of a lynx, a creature symbolic of solitude and mysticism.
Mystical Resolution: From Dread to Peace
In the final stanzas, as dawn approaches, the poem transitions into a more serene and transcendent register:
The world was turning into light, / Was sweeping into life and peace, / And folded in the fading night, / I felt the dawning sink and cease.
This closing moment offers a fragile and fleeting sense of resolution. The spirit does not answer directly, but the speaker is changed—softened by a mystical voice “with the rose shadows on the wall.” The natural world, once threatening, becomes peaceful. Light, symbolizing understanding or release, arrives not as triumph but as gentle surrender.
Themes and Interpretations
- Nature as Mirror and Force: The natural world reflects the speaker's emotional and spiritual turmoil but also acts independently, indifferent and immense.
- The Haunting of Possibility: The spirit may represent lost opportunities, alternative selves, or the "ghosts" of things not done.
- Existential Isolation: The speaker stands alone against unknowable forces, struggling with the limits of understanding and communication.
- Transcendence and Release: In the end, the poem gestures toward a mystical peace—perhaps a surrender to the inevitability of nature, death, or time.
A Night in March is a haunting and beautifully wrought meditation on the self in confrontation with the vastness of nature and the specter of its own unlived truths. Duncan Campbell Scott weaves together Gothic atmosphere, Romantic introspection, and Symbolist ambiguity to create a work that resists easy interpretation but resonates with emotional depth. It captures a liminal moment—between night and dawn, fear and peace, life and the ghostly echoes of what might have been.