Four short lines carry a whole small story. A group of people, "we," arrive at a place that feels enormous and ancient: trees that stretch toward eternity, rocks that seem to laugh at time. Only in the last line do we learn why they came. They wanted to run away.
That delay matters. For most of the poem, the scene sounds almost like a postcard of peaceful, timeless nature. Then the final line shifts the meaning. The speaker is not simply admiring the view; they are escaping something, though the poem never says what. That silence keeps the reason open for the reader to imagine.
The mood is quiet and a little uneasy. The landscape offers a sense of permanence, and the laughing rocks suggest that human worries are small and brief next to it. That could be comforting, or it could feel faintly mocking. The poem leaves both possibilities hanging, and the broken-off ending makes the escape feel unfinished.