The speaker is dying, and the poem follows their last moments while someone holds their hand. The setting is never named outright, but the "healing machines" and the "cold, white room" suggest a hospital. The speaker tries not to cry and fails, partly because of the knot in their throat and partly because the other person's face is a reminder that they will soon be left behind.
The repeated phrase "ever again, anymore" works like a slow count of everything being lost: sleep, the sun's heat, the cold of snow, the sea, a flowery perfume, a smile, a warm embrace. These are small, ordinary pleasures, which is why the loss feels so personal. Then the tone shifts. The machines fade, pain "cleared off," and peace arrives. The last image, a white room darkening into "empty black Oblivion," is calm but also bleak. The mood is tender and sorrowful, and it ends in quiet acceptance rather than panic.