The March of the Office Clerks

Like a green grasshopper
On the keys of her typewriter,
Miss nine-to-five
Sports black heels, black tights,
A white and sensible blouse.
The plastic letters of her alphabet soup
Are p's and q's, i's and t's.
Her colon, her apostrophe,
All perfectly placed.
The glass walls of her office block
Reflect the calm waters of Thames,
Flowing like the ink from a hundred biros
To insure another petty criminal
From sure-defeat fraud.
She will spread her wings soon,
The oily rainbow wings of a bluebottle:
Such colour in her, such detail,
For those discerning to see,
And in that tracery
One may find an enticing spandrel
In the church of our time -
The march of the office clerks.