The speaker is looking at a painted portrait of a goat named Sparkle Plenty, which hangs near their desk. The poem begins by imagining the goat's ordinary life on a hill, chewing whatever grass came her way, and then turns to the painting, where her black eyes seem calm and knowing. The speaker reads in them an acceptance of death, which will come after all the loves, pains and pleasures of a life.
Then the poem admits how little we can know. Whatever Sparkle Plenty understood stayed inside her "small goat brain." What the poem lists are simple things: warmth on her coat, sweet new grass, a hand scratching behind her ear. The mood is gentle, affectionate and a little wistful. The speaker half believes the goat was wise, but the poem suggests her wisdom may simply be contentment with what each day offered, and that may be worth admiring.