Pope opens by promising not to waste anyone's time, then keeps his word. "Few words are best; I wish you well" is both a courteous greeting and a statement of policy. The twelve lines that follow invite a friend, Mr C., to stay for three days at Twickenham, or "Twit'nam green" as the poem spells it. Nothing dramatic happens. Within this small space, though, Pope sets a season, makes a tempting offer and saves a joke for the final line.
The central idea is that real friendship doesn't need ceremony, and that the best thing a host can give a busy man is rest. The poem sets two worlds against each other. One is the London of "office business, news, and strife", a list in which the last word tips mere tedium into something harsher. The other is the green quiet of the poet's house, where the visitor "may rest". The invitation is written in a way that matches what it offers. It is short and easy, and it asks nothing of the reader.
The form supports this. There are three quatrains, each line of eight syllables with four beats, close to ordinary speech. This is a lighter measure than the heroic couplet Pope is best known for, and it suits a note to a friend. The rhyme scheme is a plain ABAB: *well* with *Mall*, *here* with *year*, *between* with *green*, *frost* with *host*, *rest* with *jest*, *life* with *wife*. None of these rhymes is showy, but the last two pairs carry the poem's ending, so the closing joke lands on a rhyme.
The syntax is quietly clever. The second stanza is a single "If" clause that begins in the first line, "If in this interval, between", and leaves its promise hanging across the stanza break. The grammar waits for the main clause, "For three whole days you here may rest", which arrives only at the start of the third stanza. The word "interval" fits this well. The visitor is invited into a gap in the calendar, and the sentence has a gap in it too.
The imagery is spare but chosen with care. "The falling leaf and coming frost" puts autumn into two balanced pictures, one already happening and one about to begin. The invitation sits between them, a short pause before winter. Against this, the first stanza sketches a social round of "morning walks along the Mall" and "evening friends". Judging by the poem, this is the busy end of the year that will soon close in. The country visit is something to fit in before then. The casual "I'm told" about Bethel, who will "soon be here", adds to the sense of an offhand note scribbled between other plans.
Pope's triple description, "Your friend, your poet, and your host", is worth a look. The repeated "your" makes all three roles belong to the guest, and the order seems deliberate. "Friend" comes first, and "poet" is wedged in the middle, almost as a gentle joke at the writer's own expense.
The wit is saved for the end. The aside "(what most folks would think a jest)" is set in parentheses, as if the speaker lowers his voice before the punchline. Then comes "Want nothing else except your wife." The word "want" does double work, since it can mean "lack" and also "desire". On one reading, the guest will be so well looked after that only his wife is missing. On another, the line teases him, hinting that she isn't invited. Whichever way it tips, the poem has gone from the formal tone of "I wish you well" to a smiling intimacy, and the aside about what "most folks" think suggests the speaker is amused at the idea of a husband actually missing his wife.
The poem's significance is modest but real. It shows that Pope's economy and polish don't depend on a grand subject. A few plain rhymes, one drawn-out sentence and a single well-placed word are enough to turn a note of invitation into a small, finished piece of verse. It also acts out its own first line. Having said "few words are best", Pope stops at twelve lines and leaves the wife joke as the last thing the reader hears.