The poem is a short, sardonic look at a workplace ritual. The setting is a mill in the early morning, and the speaker asks, with a raised eyebrow, who is really in charge of the scene. The answer is a pair of figures described only by what they look like: "brawn and glass," perhaps muscle and a polished, shiny surface, or someone you can see right through. Then there is a "captain" who is clapping, like a coach rallying a team.
The title suggests a morale-building exercise, but the poem treats it coldly. The people on the receiving end are "the poor," and what they get is a "long, no-brother talk" about "business and God." The odd phrase "no-brother" seems to say that the talk has no real fellowship in it, only a pretense of it. Judging by the tone, the speaker feels skeptical and a little bitter. The mood is dry and uneasy: the cheerful language of motivation sits on top of an unequal arrangement, and the speaker doesn't buy it.