Two short images carry this poem. First the speaker sees a wren and compares it to "a public hope": something small, ordinary, and shared, not grand or private. The bird is "little but neat," and the "but" matters. It admits the wren is tiny, then insists that its tidiness counts for something.
The second comparison is stranger and funnier. The wren is as well-dressed as a barber, and the barber stands "in a street of ash." That last phrase darkens everything. The street suggests ruin, loss, or a place worn down, though the poem never says why. Against that grey backdrop, the neat little bird, like the barber still taking care over his appearance, becomes a small act of dignity.
The mood is quiet, wry, and tender. The speaker seems to find comfort in modest things that keep their composure when the surroundings don't. The title, "Totem," suggests the wren is something to look to, a small emblem of resilience.