Every stanza of "Before Tomorrow" starts with the same promise, and each one is an ordinary thing: getting out of bed, brushing teeth, walking down the street, humming, eating candy, running a mile. The speaker seems to be listing what they will do before some unnamed tomorrow arrives. The poem never says what tomorrow holds, and that gap makes the list feel a little tense.
The mood starts heavy. "Trudge like led" (lead) and the image of looking down at your feet suggest someone weighed down and avoiding other people. Then the tone lightens. The candy, with one piece that looks like the moon, adds a small, childlike moment of play. The last two lines are short and brisk, and the poem ends on its warmest note: "I will try to make you smile." The word "try" keeps it humble. The speaker may be low, but they still want to reach someone else, and that gentle hope is what lingers.