A speaker slips out of bed at dawn, leaving a sleeping partner behind, and the poem is both an apology and a plea. The speaker asks never to forget the sight of that peaceful face, even while admitting how badly they wanted to forget it, because only by pushing it out of mind could they make themselves go to work. The image of a "rare orchid on the far shore of sleep" captures how fragile and precious the partner seems.
The mood is tender but weary. The city is described as a "filthy sea" that doesn't care about anyone, and the speaker's job feels like working "for the wealth of others." Still, the poem doesn't simply complain. It admits that this labour pays for shelter, warmth and food, so that the speaker can come home. The final lines are blunt and moving: the world is disgusting, and love is the one reason to stay in it. Grand ideas about meaning matter little beside one person.