Morning arrives, and whatever the speaker made or did the night before has fallen apart. "In pieces" suggests something broken or unfinished, though the poem never says exactly what the work was. That openness is part of its pull.
The middle lines turn strange and a little hopeful. "The work of joy" is not described as tiring or sad. It "clothes us in nowhere," as if joyful effort wraps a person in a place that doesn't exist on any map, a state of being lost in what you love. The speaker seems to accept that.
The last stanza reads like a farewell. "Out and gone I shall come / no more to pray" could mean leaving a habit, a place of worship, or an old self. Judging by the tone, the speaker feels calm rather than angry, maybe relieved. The mood is quiet and early-morning still: loss mixed with release, and a sense that something ended without any fuss.