Town Typing Office

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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,
Men there are honest and plump and red,
Here they are sallow for lack of bread.
But in the office the clock ticks fast
Telling how soon the hours flit past,
Middle-aged drudges the hour-long day
Hammer their pallid lives away.
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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