HERE in an office of sickly greens
Typists tap fast on black machines;
Middle-aged drudges the hour-long day
Hammer their finger-nails away:
I have just come from the country’s crown,
Shropshire, you know, with clouds of down,
This is a change from the gaping sheep
Grazing for ever, half asleep.
I have just come from the country wealds,
Shropshire, you know, with spinach fields,