The title, "Administrator," sets the scene: this is someone buried in office work. The speaker says papers "grow upon my hands," as if the paperwork were a living thing spreading over their skin, and they feel "cold as a pear," a strange, smooth, passive image that suggests numbness and distance from their own life.
The second stanza stretches the idea. The speaker compares themselves to a "captain of order" who is "exempt from land service," a rank with authority but no real contact with the ground, or with the messy action of the world. It reads like a gentle joke about being important on paper only.
Then the poem turns. "But see how," the speaker says, pointing to a fox that has no method at all and is still wise at all times. The fox seems to be the opposite of the administrator: instinctive, free, unruled by procedure. The mood is dry, wry, and a little wistful, as if the speaker envies that untidy wisdom.