The poem opens with a strange, almost mythic image: feathers in fish. It's an impossible mixture of bird and water creature, and the speaker says it "invite[s] awe." Yet it is "a sign that the king cannot see." Omens like this usually belong to rulers and prophets, but here the wonder is hidden from the one with power. Only ordinary people notice it.
Then the poem turns sharply to something small and domestic. The speaker and his wife sing, and they "put my books and her books to bed," as if the books were tired children. The tone shifts from strangeness to tenderness.
The mood is calm, intimate, and a little mysterious. The speaker seems to feel that real wonder isn't found in palaces or politics but in a shared, quiet life. The omen may be unseen by the king, but the couple, singing and settling their books for the night, seem content in what they do notice. The poem doesn't explain the connection, so readers are left to feel it.