A person alone in a woodland hut has just finished a long stretch of chopping, and the poem catches the moment when the work stops. The speaker and the ax "try peace," a phrase that treats the tool almost like a partner after an argument. Wood-chopping is hard, physical labor, and the word "try" suggests that calm doesn't come automatically. The body and the tool both need to settle down.
In the second stanza the ax rests against the plaster wall, and the speaker makes a small, cheerful promise: to go dancing tomorrow. The poem doesn't say where or with whom, which leaves the idea loose and hopeful. Judging by the title's pun on "hick," the tone is lightly self-mocking, a rough woodsman who still dreams of dancing. The mood is quiet, tired, and warm. It's the satisfied exhaustion of a day's work done, with a bit of playfulness waiting on the other side of sleep.