The poem opens with a cheerful, almost businesslike idea: an empty space waiting to be filled is "a great venture to venture." The repeated word makes it sound like a slogan, the kind of upbeat language you might hear in a pep talk about opportunity and getting started. A blank page, a blank day, a blank life: all of it is there to be put to use.
Then the second stanza changes the tone. The speaker piles up things he claims as his own: service, brother, wife, God, profits, money, chest, life, sleep. With no punctuation, the list tumbles along, and it puts people, faith, cash and the body on the same level. Nothing is ranked. Judging by the title, the poem seems to suggest that a work-driven mindset can turn everything into property or output, even love, belief and rest. The final word, "sleep," lands quietly and a little sadly, as if even that has been put on the ledger. The mood is brisk, uneasy and quietly critical.