who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish,
In a late-night, sleep deprived state, it seems like there is great meaning in the words, enough for it to act out some purpose, to perform some magic spell. This hope and self-belief is reduced to disappointment when sleep provides reemergence into the real world; into "yellow" cowardice and oppression. Words are reduced to "giberish" without the intoxicant of subjectivity. The early hours of the morning provide the same solace as the woods do in Robert Frost's "Stopping By Woods", they are both "lovely dark and deep". Once the morning light returns and the veil is lifted, societies' pressures and the social consciousness of the poet returns. The would-be poet remembers they are deemed mad by society and therefore incapable of anything but "gibberish".