The poem reads like a hangover seen through a funeral. The speaker seems to be at a ceremony, perhaps a wake, where people go through the motions of piety. They read scripture "like fools," sampling it in scraps, and give thanks for pain and for the power of a rose. The sermon is "full of rope," an odd, uneasy image that hints at hanging or binding, and the congregation speaks with "one mind and one mouth," which sounds more like obedience than belief.
Then the poem turns outward. The glory goes not to God but to the creatures that "animate dead bodies," meaning the insects and decomposers that make life from death. The ants appear as "little friars," a funny and dark comparison that makes nature the true clergy.
The last line grounds everything in the speaker's body: a sore head, and "healths" they were forced to drink. The mood is wry, tired, and quietly rebellious, doubtful of forced ritual and more moved by the physical world.