The speaker repeats "he told me," and each time someone gives advice about a relationship. The advice sounds simple: if you love him, go with him; if he loved you, he wouldn't leave; go before it's too late. It reads like a friend or relative trying to help, speaking with confidence about what should happen next.
The last stanza turns everything around. "Little did he know, you already left." The poem shifts from "him" to "you," so the speaker is suddenly talking to the person who has gone. Whatever choice the advice was pushing toward, it no longer matters, because the loss has already happened.
The mood is quiet and heavy. Nothing is shouted, and the short lines make the ending feel flat and final, like someone stating a fact they can barely absorb. The speaker seems to carry grief and a bit of bitter irony: everyone was talking about timing, and the moment had already passed. The title, "too late," says it before the poem does.