The speaker is thinking about his own death, wondering if he'll be missed. At first, he figures people will get along without him just fine—like rain that falls whether or not flowers and grass are there to use it, even though those plants depend on it. He's seen strangers pass in the street, meaning nothing to him, disappearing carelessly. But then he flips the idea: what if the connection runs deeper? What if, unknown to anyone, they've nurtured something precious in each other? Suddenly, he imagines that the rain itself might crave the blossom's cup, needing that particular vessel to drink from. In that moment, one of those strangers glances back and laughs, a small, gentle act that breaks the loneliness. The mood is quiet and pensive, but the ending carries a fragile hope—a sense that even unnoticed bonds may have immense worth.
What Will They Do? — Summary
What will they do when I am gone? It is plain That they will do without me as the rain Can do without the flowers and the grass That profit by it and must perish without. I have but seen them in the loud street pass; And I was naught to them. I turned about To see them disappearing carelessly. But what if I in them as they in me Nourished what has great value and no price? Almost I thought that rain thirsts for a draught Which only in the blossom's chalice lies, Until that one turned back and lightly laughed.