And all I could do was to stand and stare?[1164]
He had pleaded my cause,[1165] he had played his part,
And got his fee—and what more[1166] did he care?
It’s droll to think how, just out yonder,[1167]
The world goes jogging on the same;
Old men will save, and boys will squander,
And fellows will play at the same old game
Of get-and-spend to-morrow,[1168] next year—
And drink and carouse, and who will there be
To remember a comrade buried here?[1169]