A rider in a carriage feels every jolt of a rough road. At first the speaker wishes the streets were smoother, but the poem changes its mind partway through. The dash in the third line and the shift in the fourth, "Perhaps instead like this is better," read like someone thinking aloud and talking themselves into a new view.
The turn comes with the bumps. Each time the wheel hits one, the speaker knows where it is. The roughness becomes a kind of map, a way to stay oriented. The last two lines state the idea plainly: it's better to know where you're going than to have flat paths when you're blind.
The mood is quiet and thoughtful, with a little stubborn comfort in it. The poem suggests that difficulty can be useful when it keeps us aware, and that an easy road means little if we can't see where it leads. The speaker doesn't celebrate hardship so much as accept it, and finds some clarity in it.