Forest at sea

It is a picture of contradictions - some Dylan Thomas in the same vein (though maybe you have to be slightly unhinged to really appreciate it). Am I alone in seeing the pathos in both the image and the verse?

Down, down, down, under the ground,

Under the floating villages,

Turns the moon-chained and water-wound

Metropolis of fishes,

There is nothing left of the sea but its sound,

Under the earth the loud sea walks,

In deathbeds of orchards the boat dies down

And the bait is drowned among hayricks,

Land, land, land, nothing remains

Of the pacing, famous sea but its speech,

And into its talkative seven tombs

The anchor dives through the floors of a church.

Good-bye, good luck, struck the sun and the moon,

To the fisherman lost on the land.

He stands alone in the door of his home,

With his long-legged heart in his hand.