"the petals reach inward, / the blue tips bend / toward the bluer heart / and the flowers are lost."
These lines describe how the flower's petal fold inwards in response to the setting of the sun. Symbolically, they gesture to an experience of inwardness in response to the loss of light—perhaps an allegory for the inwardness that results from other kinds of loss. Examples of such inwardness could be the retreating into oneself in grief, the isolating confusion when memory fades, and the inward depths where repressed thoughts sink into the unconscious. These lines also recall the familiar human experience of being alone with oneself, forced to look inward, and enduring moments of silence in the dark. These shadowy instances emphasize the tension—represented in this poem by the flowers—of blending into one's surroundings and becoming one with all life and matter, while one's "bluer heart" ultimately beats alone. The line "and the flowers are lost" suggests that when visibility is lost, the flowers cease to exist on some level. Perhaps this hyper-visual but also philosophical assumption alludes to the parts of our identities that are considered lost when they cannot be perceived—an idea applicable in the context of memory, psychic repression, cultural conformity, and death. Therefore the lines beckon the reader to ask: if something cannot be tangibly perceived, does it exist? (Compare the classic puzzle about a tree falling in the forest with no one to hear it.) Based on these lines alone, one begins to realize how many metaphysical issues are at play within this short but potent poem.
"The cornel-buds are still white, / but shadows dart / from the cornel-roots— / black creeps from root to root"
In these lines the speaker captures a moment of transition, in which the brightness of the white leaves and their clarity remains, but darkness is imminent. The words "dart" and "creeps" evoke a sense of urgency, mystery, and vulnerability. Instant oblivion would almost be more peaceful than the slow emergence of the inky black night that "creeps from root to root," rendering everything a darkened mass, prostrate before the mercy of the next sunrise. Here, the speaker has highlighted the frenetic but persistent nature of transition, from which there is no escape. No fight is present; rather, the flowers curl inward and accept their fate. Although a simple and beautiful set of lines on a literal level, this portion of "Evening" also gestures hauntingly to the momentum of time, loss, and obscurity that haunts the human experience.
"shadow seeks shadow, / then both leaf / and leaf-shadow are lost."
These final lines of the poem, while relieving the tension of transition, leave open-ended the predicament of visceral presence and subsequent loss: an experience common to all living things. The reader is left in darkness after the leaves and evidence of their existence—their shadows—melt into imperceptibility. The phrase "shadow seeks shadow" insinuates that intrinsic to the forces of nature is a magnetic pull toward amorphous nothingness. One should note that not only is the leaf "lost" in this moment, but the "leaf-shadow" too—perhaps suggesting that the processes of disintegration and disguise symbolized by "Evening" are as elusive and difficult to perceive as the objects that they transform.
