There’s nought of funereal pomp or show—
Just a rough-hewn slab that states,
The leisurely chap that lies below
Had honestly paid his rates
Somewhere in the summer of ’Ninety-four;
And then he came hither—to pay no more.
[98]
]So he wearied soon of the storm and strife,
And he cast his swag aside,
When men were strong with the lust of life
And the world seemed opened wide.