In just three short lines, the speaker describes the daily world of a clerk, someone whose job is copying and handling documents. The surprising moment comes in the middle: the speaker lifts "an ox of paper" away from their writing. An ox is a heavy, slow work animal, so the image turns a pile of paperwork into something huge, burdensome, and alive.
The speaker seems weary but also oddly wry. Clearing the paper is a physical effort, like hauling a beast off a desk, and it suggests a job that is mostly drudgery. Yet there's a hint of dignity, too. An ox is a creature that works steadily, and the speaker shares that patient labor. The title, "Scrivener," points to an old-fashioned word for a copyist, which adds a sense of long tradition.
The mood is quiet, dry, and a little humorous. The poem is tiny, but it makes you feel the weight of the work.