The poem opens with an image of futility: trying to block a river with a single hand. The water simply pushes through the gaps. The speaker uses this to describe how people hold on to "wondrous little hopes," small, hopeful beliefs that we cling to even though they can't really hold back anything large, like time or change.
The last two lines turn toward something more private. We "keep this other world / for God or bed," as if we set aside a separate place for what we can't manage in daily life, whether that's faith or intimacy and rest. The phrase suggests both comfort and escape.
The mood is quiet, wry, and a little tender. The speaker doesn't seem to mock these hopes, but there's a gentle sadness in seeing how small our defenses are. The short lines and plain wording make the thought feel like a confession, spoken softly and without fuss.