Two short images sit side by side in "Churchyard," and the poem lets them quietly echo each other. The first is a dead rose that seems to be "tending / some other air," as if, even in death, it is leaning toward somewhere else, or caring for a place we can't see. The word "tending" gives the dead flower a strange gentleness, a sense of purpose that outlasts life.
The second image is plainer and harder: a little boy's burial. The speaker says "the ordinary pains us," which is a surprising thing to feel at such a moment. It suggests that it isn't only the big, obvious sorrow that hurts, but the everyday world carrying on around it: the flowers, the air, the routine details of a funeral. The mood is hushed and restrained. The poem doesn't cry out or explain. It simply notices, and that restraint makes the sadness feel quiet but heavy, like something held in a lowered voice.