He never reached retirement;

He beavered away till the last,

And from his modest office desk

He receded into the past.

 

Nobody threw a party

Or presented him with a watch;

He ploughed on as hard as ever,

Till health took him downwards a notch.

 

At home he composed his poems

In an atmosphere most discreet,

Though colleagues knew of his exploits

And some worshipped at his feet.

 

He lived not long enough to see

His later, complicated fame,

But might have liked the ups and downs

Of this less familiar game.