The speaker describes a strange run of visions, and the title suggests they are not happy about seeing them. First comes a sea of hands, a crowd reaching or waving, perhaps pleading. Then a wine seller in a wine cellar, which is oddly ordinary: someone exactly where you'd expect, doing what they always do. Then a night "made even with the sun," as if darkness and daylight have been levelled into the same thing. The images feel dreamlike, and none of them comes with an explanation.
Then the poem turns with a blunt question: "What to do?" The speaker's answer is small and almost comic. Instead of announcing a grand warning, they pray for "a change of tune." That could mean they want the visions to stop, or want a different kind of message to deliver. Either way, the mood mixes unease with weary humor. The speaker seems burdened by seeing too much and would rather hum something else.