Indignant at the fumbling wits, the obscure spite Of our old Paudeen in his shop, I stumbled blind Among the stones and thorn trees, under morning light; Until a curlew cried and in the luminous wind A curlew answered; and suddenly thereupon I thought That on the lonely height where all are in God's eye, There cannot be, confusion of our sound forgot, A single soul that lacks a sweet crystalline cry.
The speaker starts out irritated. Old Paudeen, the shopkeeper, is muddled and quietly spiteful, and the speaker is so annoyed that he walks off blindly over stones and thorn trees in the morning light. The first lines feel cramped and prickly, full of rough ground and bad temper.
Then a curlew cries, and another answers through the bright wind. That small exchange changes his mood. He imagines a high, lonely place where everyone is seen by God, and where the confusion of ordinary human talk has fallen away. Up there, he thinks, every soul must have a "sweet crystalline cry," even someone as irritating as Paudeen.
The mood moves from annoyance to sudden, generous calm. The poem suggests that people's clumsy, petty surfaces may hide something clear and beautiful, and that a bird's call can help the speaker see it.