A darkling place, of shadowy space,
Reached by a silent stair;
A skeleton clock, with a dusty face,
That marks time in the air,
To five grey ghosts, in blue and gold lace,
Each in ghost of a board-room chair.
Their red-tape is dust, their penknives are rust,
The ink in each standish is sere;
Their ghost-quills glide betwixt margins wide
Of foolscap, that blanks appear;