Wealth, in this short poem, turns out to be something odd and hard to pin down. The four brief stanzas don't build an argument; they sit side by side like items in a pocket. Rain is imagined as feeding the sea, and somehow that tells the speaker "the reason for love." The poem never says what the reason is, which makes it feel like something sensed rather than explained. Then comes a funny, sad image: false teeth, alone in the world, as if even a leftover object could feel lonely.
The speaker likes to go out at night and count fish, a gentle, slightly absurd habit that suggests patience and quiet pleasure. The last line, "O the inconvenience / of a great blessing," sounds half joking and half sincere. Judging by the title, the blessing may be this odd, attentive way of seeing. The mood is wry, tender and a little wistful, with a sense that being rich means noticing.