The poem tells of a dream in which a doctor makes the speaker drink something, and then delivers a puzzling rule: "any bear may heal / which is to say love." The line works like a riddle. A bear is wild and dangerous, yet here it becomes a healer, and healing is quietly redefined as love. The speaker doesn't argue with this. They simply report it, the way dreams hand us odd truths we accept without question.
The ending is the most unsettling part. "And that being ended / time" can be read a few ways: the dream's message finishes, the drinking is done, or time itself stops once love has done its work. The poem doesn't settle it, and the cut-off phrasing makes the last word hang in the air.
The speaker seems more receptive than afraid, perhaps a little dazed. The mood is hushed, mysterious, and strangely tender, like waking up with a half-remembered line that feels important even if you can't fully explain it.