In four quick lines, Samuel Hoffenstein sets the sea next to a human being and finds the sea enviably calm. The sea can take in all the rivers and rain that pour into it without ever overflowing or exceeding its capacity; it simply holds everything. A man, by contrast, has to fret and strain just to stay “strong — and wet.” The dash before “wet” is a comic turn: strength sounds noble, but wetness is almost too literal—an absurd standard. The speaker’s sighing “Alas” makes the tone wry rather than truly sad. Beneath the joke is a small, recognizable truth: people work hard simply to remain resilient and fluid, able to absorb life without breaking down or drying up. The mood is playful, self-mocking, and a little exhausted—like a clever toast to the effort of staying steady.
Songs About Life and Brighter Things Yet XIX — Summary
It drinks up all — and yet the sea Exceeds not its capacity; Alas, how much a man must fret To keep himself as strong — and wet!