The speaker imagines a vast, restless crowd as a living ocean. Out of it comes a single drop — a quiet, loving presence that whispers “I love you” and explains it has traveled a long way just to see and touch him. There’s a fragile urgency here: the drop fears losing him, and knows its own life is brief. But once they’ve looked at each other and felt safe, the tone softens completely. The speaker accepts the separation without despair, because they aren’t really apart. He’s part of that same ocean, and the “great rondure” of existence holds everything together in a perfect, unbreakable circle. The sea will carry them in different directions for a little while, but never forever. In the end, the speaker makes a quiet, devoted promise: every day at sundown he will salute the air, the ocean, and the land for the sake of his love. The mood is tender, oceanic, and deeply peaceful — a calm recognition that any farewell is only temporary.
Out of the Rolling Ocean, the Crowd. — Summary
1 OUT of the rolling ocean, the crowd, came a drop gently to me, Whispering, I love you, before long I die, I have travel’d a long way, merely to look on you, to touch you, For I could not die till I once look’d on you, For I fear’d I might afterward lose you.
2 (Now we have met, we have look’d, we are safe; Return in peace to the ocean, my love; I too am part of that ocean, my love—we are not so much separated; Behold the great rondure—the cohesion of all, how perfect! But as for me, for you, the irresistible sea is to separate us, As for an hour, carrying us diverse—yet cannot carry us diverse for ever; Be not impatient—a little space—Know you, I salute the air, the ocean and the land, Every day, at sundown, for your dear sake, my love.)