The speaker of this short poem takes stock of what they have given and what remains. The first two lines admit to a kind of performance: they have "bled good cheer" and "pretended to hope." Cheer here isn't natural; it's drained out of them, almost like a wound, and hope is something faked rather than felt. There's tiredness in that, and a quiet honesty about putting on a brave face.
The third line turns toward the book itself. The speaker has "set down" in it "the grace of what / I have." The line break is telling: it ends on "what," then lands on "I have," as if the speaker is checking how little or how much that really is. Grace suggests something small but valuable, perhaps dignity, gratitude, or beauty found in limited circumstances.
Because it's titled "Epigraph," the poem works like a doorway into the book. The mood is sober, humble, and tender. It doesn't promise happiness, only truthfulness and whatever grace can be salvaged.