A speaker walks out to a spit, a narrow point of land reaching into water, just to listen to the sea or lake. The trouble is that the place has been seen so many times it risks going blank. The poem's one comparison captures that: the view is like "gone money left in a bed." Picture coins or bills tucked into bedding and forgotten. They still have value, but nobody is counting on them, and finding them again would be a small, odd surprise.
The speaker seems quietly wistful rather than upset. Walking to "hear" the water, not look at it, suggests an attempt to experience something familiar in a new way, since sight has grown worn out from repetition. The mood is calm, a little tender, and slightly rueful. The poem doesn't say whether the listening works. It leaves us with the image of something precious that has slipped out of attention, and the hope that it can still be found.