Sidney Lanier draws a quiet parallel between rain-drops striking the ocean and human lives entering the world. Each rain-drop falls, briefly dimpling the water’s surface, then vanishes without a trace. The only evidence it ever existed is that small circle of wrinkles spreading out and disappearing. In the same way, Lanier suggests, souls descend into the “flesh-sea strife” of living, leave a momentary impression on the world, and then fade away. Without those subtle wrinkles, no one would know we were ever here.
The mood is gentle and melancholy, but not despairing. The speaker seems to stand at a distance, watching rain hit the sea and thinking about how transient our presence is. There’s a soft acceptance in the comparison — lives are fleeting, yet they do leave behind a faint ripple, a kind of proof. The poem leaves a quiet, reflective ache, like staring at water after the rain has stopped.