The title promises Eden, a place of perfect harmony, but the poem opens with a surprise: the very first complaint. The "first man to complain" doesn't want more of anything. He wants to be alone. That small wish quietly cracks the idea of paradise, since even in a perfect world someone needs space to himself.
The poem then turns to a gentle image of a pear "in slow light." A pear doesn't strive or speak; it just ripens and becomes "more itself." The speaker seems to see solitude as a way of settling into who you are, not as something sad or bitter.
The last lines are honest about the cost. This kind of life is "heavy with plainness and pleasure," but offers "little glory." The mood is calm, content, and a little wry. The speaker seems to accept an ordinary, quiet existence, valuing its simple pleasures over any grand reward.