Speaker
This poem's speaker is a radically disembodied observer, trying to make sense of the world but unable to trust even the evidence of his or her senses. In fact, caught up in what he or she calls "life's long darkling way," the speaker seems entirely disoriented. Twice, the speaker makes a broad statement about the scene at the port, first saying that it is dark and silent, and later saying that the only things visible are shadows. But in both cases, as if second-guessing her own senses, the speaker then lists a series of exceptions—things that can be seen and heard. Ultimately, though, she argues that this uncertainty and willingness to second-guess what looks like empirical evidence is actually a form of self-awareness and truthfulness. She asserts that reason is usually a source of easy but untruthful answers, such that her own unease with immediate sensory reality constitutes part of a deeper search for truth—or at least a process of coming to terms with uncertainty.
Seamen
The speaker hears soldiers call to one another in the distance, announcing the end of one guard shift as the night arrives. In contrast to the speaker, who is radically alone (to such an extent that she can hear the seamen, but cannot see or identify them), the seamen exist as a group. Their voices blend together, and they seamlessly take shifts, functioning as a single body. The seamen, in a sense, offer an example of a contrasting way to be in the world—one that revolves around group identity and a shared sense of reality, as opposed to the speaker's solitude, lack of clear identity, and mistrust in reality.
