Three short lines hold two quite different ways of looking at a stand of trees. The first line gives us something almost pictorial: the sun sitting low behind the timber, the trunks cutting dark shapes against the light. It's a quiet, even beautiful image. Then the second and third lines turn it toward money. The speaker admits to "hopes / of profit," and suddenly the woods are an investment as well as a view.
What the speaker feels seems mixed. The hopeful tone is modest, almost sheepish, and the plain, understated wording suggests someone who knows that wanting profit from a woodlot sits a little awkwardly beside admiring it. The title helps here, since a "woodlot" is land kept for its wood, not for wilderness.
The mood is calm but slightly uneasy. Because the sun is behind the timber, the trees are partly hidden or backlit, and that may hint that the speaker's hopes are uncertain too. The poem leaves that open.