A pigeon looks down from a roof at a crowded scene of rats feeding, and the poem follows its wary eyes. The title suggests a temple, and the rats are called "mendicants," or beggars, so the pigeon seems to be watching a kind of religious gathering. The floor heaves and the walls rattle, which makes the mass of bodies feel noisy and overwhelming.
The pigeon isn't impressed. It sees thieves and nest-robbers, creatures whose beaky faces look strangely like unhatched chicks, yet with no hope of feathers. The line "the earth is still all egg" is a odd, striking image: the rats seem unfinished, as if they belong to an earlier stage of life. Then comes the sharp question, "What makes them holy?" The speaker, through the pigeon's view, doubts the reverence. The final lines have a quiet, almost mocking tone, as the rats crawl in the dirt, never thinking of flight. The mood is tense, watchful and a little disdainful.