A woman stands silently on a ship’s deck, and the sailors around her begin to imagine what her reserve might hide. They picture the smell of swamp roots and dark streets in Marseilles, children’s voices rising from the water, a small Paris street where lovers chatter like canaries, and finally a hushed forest. None of it is certain; the poem floats among these possibilities, each one a different version of intimacy or homesickness. The repeated “maybe” makes the scene feel dreamlike, as though the sailors are reading their own longings into her stillness. Then the final lines suddenly speak directly: “Farewell, my old pine forest! / I might have lived there for a thousand years.” That shift turns the imagined woman’s life into a real-sounding grief for a rooted, ancient place left behind. The mood is quiet, wistful, and a little lonely—balanced between the openness of the sea and the deep stillness of the forest.
The Sea and the Forest — Summary
A woman appears on deck. In her shy look the sailors Inhale the perfume of swamp roots And certain dark streets of Marseilles.
She stands still in a shadow. Voices of children rising from the sea, Air bells and flowers. . . .
Or maybe she is thinking of a house, One of those little streets in Paris Where lovers twitter like canaries.
Or maybe it's a forest. The leaves are hushed and still. All this, and more, the sailors Think of while she stands, One hand lightly resting on the rail.
Farewell, my old pine forest! I might have lived there for a thousand years.