Speaking as a mole, the poem imagines a creature that has burrowed underground and is itching to break out of its routine. The "gray clock" suggests dull, ticking time, something the speaker is ready to smash. The image of the mouth as a "warren" is odd and vivid: the speaker is hollowed out, full of tunnels, as if the whole body has become a burrow.
The ending turns to desire. The speaker asks for "a field" and "a bitter plain" where they can "bezzle," an old word meaning to waste or squander greedily. So the wish is not for comfort but for indulgence, even a little recklessness. Fear that is "rank as wine" mixes disgust with pleasure, as though fear itself could be savored and drunk.
The mood is restless, hungry, and a bit wild. It feels cramped at the start and then opens up toward something harsh but freeing. Judging by the imagery, the mole may stand for anyone shut away in a dark, repetitive life who craves real, even dangerous, experience.