The poem turns light into a strange visitor. It arrives like an old acquaintance, but with a pick-axe, as if it means to break into the cellar, the dark place where things are kept hidden. Then the image shifts again: light becomes a "mad night-gown of silk," something odd, soft and a little wild to put on.
The speaker wears it "as an experiment / in walking upright," and calls this a private game. That makes the mood playful but also exposed, like trying out a new way of being yourself when nobody is watching. The last stanza seems to let go: the garment can "fall where it will." The final lines are hard to pin down, but the poem seems to say that this private, unscripted moment feels truer than any answer, or anything performed on a stage. The title hints at the irony: it is light entertainment, yet it carries real weight. The overall feeling is curious, dreamlike, and quietly freeing.