Four short lines carry a quiet reversal. The speaker begins by noticing how easily people marvel at order, at things neatly arranged and working as they should. Then comes the sharper observation: we rarely stop to wonder at ruin, at what has fallen apart or been left broken.
The last two lines turn personal. The speaker admits to seeing a "red din," a loud, vivid phrase that mixes color and noise, and has come to take pleasure in it. "Red" suggests something intense, perhaps angry or alive, and "din" suggests chaos you can't ignore. The word "come" matters too, since it implies this pleasure was learned over time rather than felt at once.
The mood is calm but a little defiant. The speaker doesn't seem troubled by the disorder, only curious and quietly appreciative. The poem asks us to consider that mess and decay might be just as worth our attention as tidiness, and that beauty can live in the wreckage.