The speaker repeats one command: speak no more, at least until night arrives. What's striking is how much the speaker wants kept out of the day's talk. Not just gossip about what "he did a month ago," but also plans, worries, daydreams, and things that may never happen. Past, future, distant places, even strangers are all ruled out.
The reason is given early: what you say in the morning shapes what you do at night. Words, the poem suggests, aren't harmless. Talking about the future might bend it, and dwelling on the past might drag it along with you.
The tone is calm but firm, almost like a quiet instruction or a gentle plea. The repeated phrase works like a chant, slowing everything down. The mood is hushed and patient. The speaker seems to want the reader to stay in the present moment and let the day pass without commentary, then speak only when night has come.