The poem opens with a bold claim: gain and ache, meaning what we win and what we suffer, teach us more than anything else. The next lines read like small proofs of that idea. The speaker lies with women, and gives a faintly cocky reason: being pretty handsome. Then comes the opposite note. They go to bed unwell, "somewhat ill," which deflates the swagger a little.
The final lines shift the tone again. After all this bodily business, the speakers argue over "extemporary prayer," whether prayer should be made up on the spot or follow set words. It's a surprising, almost comic turn, moving from desire and sickness to a theological quarrel.
The mood is dry, wry, and matter-of-fact. The speaker doesn't dramatize anything, and the plain "we" suggests a shared, ordinary life in which appetite, frailty, and belief all sit side by side. The poem seems to say that experience, pleasant or painful, is what pushes people toward bigger questions, even if they only bicker about them.