The poem opens like a grand declaration. The speaker says they are taking sides in the war of good and evil, but the side they pick is a surprise. It isn't good or evil at all. It's "the pageants, the show": spectacle, display, the colorful noise of the world. The title, "Partisan," makes the loyalty sound fierce, almost comic, since the cause is so light.
The last two lines explain the choice. "Poor thought is a locked door, a quiet morning." Thinking that is poor, or empty, shuts things down, but the speaker describes it with a strangely calm image. A quiet morning is peaceful, yet a locked door keeps you out. The poem seems to be setting a rich, lively surface against a stillness that may be closed off.
The mood is wry and playful, with a faint uneasiness underneath. The speaker seems to prefer the show, though the poem leaves open whether that is joy, defiance, or a bit of escape.