The poem begins with a stark split: one person is in mourning, another, who has an ear, is not. The line is a little puzzling, but the speaker seems to be noticing who listens and who doesn't, and perhaps who is able to hear grief at all. Whoever is grieving, the speaker feels helpless. "Not seeing how to help it," they simply go for a walk.
That walk becomes the poem's quiet answer. The park, the great elm, and the walnut tree are described as "filled with stories," as if the old trees hold more than any one sorrow. Then the poem ends on a small, surprising image: a little girl singing in a ruined garden. Nothing is explained, and nothing is fixed.
The mood is gentle, uncertain, and tender. The speaker doesn't solve anything, but the ending suggests that life and music can still turn up among ruins. Judging by the title, walking itself is the remedy, offering company and a little hope without pretending to console.