Groping back to bed after a piss
I part thick curtains, and am startled by
The rapid clouds, the moon's cleanliness.
Four o'clock: wedge-shadowed gardens lie
Under a cavernous, a wind-picked sky.
There's something laughable about this,
The way the moon dashes through clouds that blow
Loosely as cannon-smoke to stand apart
(Stone-coloured light sharpening the roofs below)
High and preposterous and separate -
Lozenge of love! Medallion of art!
O wolves of memory! Immensements! No,
One shivers slightly, looking up there.
The hardness and brightness and the plain
Far-reaching singleness of that wide stare
Is a reminder of the strength and pain
Of being young; that it can't come again,
But is for others undiminished somewhere.
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The moon somehow manages to be both mundane and exceptional, all depending on one's mood. Larkin, here portraying an older man stumbling back to bed after taking a piss (mundane, vulgar) sees a perfectly poetic scene, the moon presiding over a sky strewn with clouds, and finds comedy in the romance so many others see. Giving the moon a number of ridiculous epithets, Larkin mocks the poetic conceit with which the moon is regarded by the young. Even given that, he does give us the funny turn of phrase "lozenge of love" for the moon, as if it is something young lovers swallow at night to ease their heartbreak.
Rather than the somewhat ridiculous love images, Larkin instead thinks of the great cold stare of the moon as it looks over the night world. Reminding him of youth, and its passions and pains, Larkin seems to ultimately take solace in the fact that somewhere out there, someone else, someone young, is looking at the moon with un-jaded eyes. I cherish the "strength and pain" that I am so fortunate to have as a young man. Maybe someday in the future, as I groggily stumble back to bed after taking a leak, I'll see the same moon Larkin saw here, and join in his laughter.