In just a few lines, the speaker describes lying on the ground and finding relief there. The first stanza says that by lying long, they "make" their heart light. That verb matters: lightness isn't simply given, it's something the speaker brings about through stillness and patience.
The second stanza turns the ground into medicine. An "antidote" counteracts a poison, so something must be weighing the speaker down. The poem doesn't say what, but the word "bed" gives a clue. Bed suggests indoor rest, sleeplessness, or perhaps a heavy, restless state of mind. The earth offers a better kind of rest than the mattress does.
The title, "Earthed," adds another layer. It can suggest being grounded, the way an electrical current is carried safely away. The mood is quiet, calm, and quietly restorative. The poem's brevity mirrors its idea: there's nothing to do but lie still and let the ground take the weight.