Pavilionward we sped to sit and wonder
Was this the end of play.
In scattered groups my comrades talked together,
Their disappointment faded bit by bit,
So soothing can it be to tell the weather
Just what you think of it.
But I—I sat aloof as one distressed by
A painful tendency to droop and wilt;
Though none suspected it, I was oppressed by
A conscience charged with guilt.