The poem begins with a cold, slightly bitter observation: the world of business and money keeps moving along, indifferent, even while we lie down to sleep or rest. The title, "Estate," seems to play on this idea of property and wealth, and what happens to them when we're gone. But the poem quickly turns from human affairs to a bigger question: what are we to God, to a fox, to a hound, to oysters in the dark?
Each of those comparisons shifts our sense of importance. To a fox, we may be just a threat or a smell. To the hound, though, we are the one who calls her home, so we matter completely. The oysters, far off in the dark, know nothing of us at all. The speaker seems to be wondering, quietly, whether human worth depends entirely on who is looking. The mood is humble and reflective, a little unsettled, but also tender in that single moment with the dog.