The poem begins by addressing "shouting mouths" and telling them to rest. Something has been settled, and the speaker says the "solemn sighs / Of better men" have freed everyone from fear. It sounds like relief, almost a lullaby for people worn out by arguing.
But the comfort doesn't hold. In the middle, the speaker turns to "you" and says "Your homes all marched away," as if houses had become an army and drifted off with the tides. Home is no longer fixed. Instead we hear of "far flung archipelagos" that will "soon" be "our homelands," so a new belonging is promised but not yet here.
The last two lines land hardest. "Once were we strangers / Now we live alone." You might expect that strangers would become neighbours, yet the poem suggests the opposite: being set free has left people isolated. The mood is quiet, uneasy and a little hollow. Victory is announced, but the speaker seems to count the cost, and the poem leaves us wondering whether safety from fear is worth losing each other.