The poem reads like a handful of instructions for a good life, and it calls them "a quaint command," as if they come from an older, gentler world. The advice is simple: think kindly, say thank you, end the day with music and sleep. Nothing here is grand or difficult. The speaker seems to trust small, ordinary habits more than big ambitions.
The most surprising line is the one about strewing the streets with herbs "for joy of going." It suggests that joy comes from the act of moving through life, not from reaching some goal, and it adds a note of celebration, even ceremony. The ending is a puzzle. Telling us never to pray for happiness "as long as the sun and moon endure" could mean that happiness shouldn't be something we beg for, but something we make through kindness, gratitude and rest. The mood is calm, warm and slightly old-fashioned, with a quiet confidence beneath it.