Tsemon's feeling of Cambridge is light, and just because of this, it is deep and enduring, which he expresses with temperance, and with loving care. But we can still feel his intensity. In his mind's eye, the willow turns into his sun-gilded bride, her calm reflection downstream stirs him incessantly. Through his deft use of meatphor, we feel his love hidden deep flame up.
To him, the waves in River Cam are tender, the weeds are glossy and the mud is soft. That's why he would be a duckweed, merging with nature, with Cambridge. As he turns his eyes aside, he sees the clear pool under the elms but to him the pool is no longer a pool, it has become a rainbow scattered among the weeds in his dream. He will sing out in the starry glow while rowing to the greener of the green weeds but he checks himself when realizing he's leaving his dreamland. Now the summer insects keep mute as well as Cambridge because he's leaving, This personification blurs the boundary between human and non-human, a token of his naturalism and romanticism. His emotion flows, strong but not superficial, that's why he keeps his song inside, listening to the silence of the insects and Cambridge. This kind of depth and serenity may have been given him by Cambridge.
His
leaving is special. It seems that he does not say goodbye to
anybody, not his classmates, not Professor Dickenson but to the
clouds in the western sky, and he will not go with any cloud. This
scene appears twice, at the beginning and at the end of the poem. A
reader may be shaken by this montage.

