The speaker pictures themselves in a crowd, adding one hand to many others. The title, "Populist," points toward ordinary people rather than rulers, and the speaker says outright that they are indifferent to the king. Power and royalty simply don't matter to them.
Then the poem turns on a question: "Who did I respect?" The answer is surprisingly short. Rain. Dirt. Nothing human appears in that list, not even the crowd, and not any leader. What the speaker honors is the physical world that falls on everyone and feeds everyone equally.
The mood is calm, plain, and a little defiant. The short lines and the abrupt ending give it a blunt, humble feel, like someone who has stopped bothering with grand titles. The poem suggests that real authority belongs to what is basic and common, and that the people's strength comes from sharing the same ground as everything else.