Two short stanzas, two landscapes, and a quiet shift between them. The poem opens by comparing a meadow to a face, a "lush" one, rich and full, yet also "full of pains and answers." That's a striking mix. The meadow isn't simply pretty. Like a human face, it seems to carry experience, with things that hurt and things that make sense of the hurt, all written on its surface.
Then the poem turns to a ridge and a "you and I." The verb is "would lie," which suggests something that used to happen, or something imagined, rather than something happening now. Lying there "all night" gives the moment a sense of closeness and patience, two people with nowhere else to be.
The speaker's feeling seems to be tender and a little wistful. The poem doesn't explain what the pains or answers are, and that restraint is part of its mood: hushed, intimate, and open, as if the speaker is looking at the land and quietly remembering someone.