The speaker goes through a series of small farewells, and each one feels like a rehearsal for a final one. He says goodbye to a rose, "gives paper to a paper," and drinks to someone, or something, setting off to sea, described as a seal with a great desire to go there. The title, "Landsman," means someone who lives on land, which makes the sea-bound seal feel like a contrast: the speaker stays behind while another leaves.
Afterward he goes home and sits "talking old, playing old," as if he is already settling into age. The poem ends with the odd, quiet image of lying down in "a fine urn," which suggests death arriving as calmly as bedtime.
The mood is gentle, wistful and a little wry. The speaker doesn't seem panicked or bitter. The old-fashioned phrasing ("bade adieu") gives the farewells a ceremonial tone, and the final image reads as acceptance, even a faint dry humor, about endings.