It was true, the plant was closed . . . Smoke belched no more from the tall straight stacks, It seemed impossible to get away from the sight Of their cold reminder of want. Relief—with always someone hungry till the soul As well as the body grew shriveled and hopeless. A man could not stay in the house. A woman, remembering her anger at smoke-smeared clothes, Now prayed for a smudge of soot.
A factory has shut down, and the town feels the loss in its stomach. The speaker opens with a flat, almost stunned statement, "It was true, the plant was closed," as if people had been refusing to believe it. The tall stacks still stand, but they no longer smoke, and the poem treats them as "cold reminders of want," monuments to a livelihood that has disappeared.
The sharpest moment comes at the end. A woman who once complained about smoke-smeared laundry now "prayed for a smudge of soot." Dirt, once a nuisance, has become a sign of work and wages. The poem also notes how hunger spreads beyond the body, until "the soul" shrivels too, and a man can't bear to stay in his own house.
The mood is bleak and quiet. Nothing is shouted; the poem simply lets the irony sit there, which makes the despair feel more real.