The title promises personal growth, but the poem keeps undercutting it. The first three lines set up a sharp contrast: spring should feel hopeful, yet the land is "sick and wounded with oil." Comparing that hope to "news of peace" is unsettling, since it suggests good news that arrives already tainted, or that can't be fully trusted.
The second stanza turns from the land to people. "Getting money" and hoping "to get thin" sound like ordinary goals of self-improvement, but the poem links them with damage and emptiness. The final line, "go home hungry to be," trails off without finishing, which leaves the idea of becoming something unfinished too. The speaker seems to suggest that our pursuit of wealth and a better self runs alongside the harm done to the earth.
The mood is quiet, wry, and uneasy. There's no shouting, just a cool, fragmented tone that lets the irony of the title sink in.