The title says it all: "Myopic" means short-sighted, and the poem is about people who can only see what is right in front of them. It opens with a blunt, slightly weary statement that hope by itself is no holiday, no easy escape, however much we pretend otherwise. That "we" matters. The speaker isn't pointing a finger from outside but including themselves in the habit.
The image that follows is quiet but unsettling: houses two stories high going up in the fields. The poem doesn't say who is building or why, but the picture suggests land being covered over, and people too busy with the work to notice. The last three lines slow right down, almost one word at a time, ending on "to see." The sentence stops before it says what should be seen, which leaves a gap the reader has to fill. The mood is uneasy and reproachful, but also gentle, more a nudge to lift our heads than an accusation.