The speaker is sitting in a new boat at a yacht club and feeling glad to leave business behind, at least for a while. The relief is real, but the poem doesn't leave it as simple happiness. The next image is strange: the speaker compares himself to a "cunning fellow in a grave." Leaving work becomes a kind of burial, a quiet, hidden stillness that is also a little sly, as if he has gotten away with something.
The last two lines turn odder still. A "little blind shoe, ashamed to be bland" suggests something small, plain and unable to see where it is going, yet embarrassed by its own dullness. Judging by these images, the speaker may feel a mix of freedom and unease, perhaps aware that this leisure, with its yacht club and new boat, is a bit ordinary or even faintly absurd. The mood is wry, dreamlike and slightly mocking, with contentment and self-doubt sitting side by side.