The poem
I
As newer comers crowd the fore, We drop behind. - We who have laboured long and sore Times out of mind, And keen are yet, must not regret To drop behind.
II
Yet there are of us some who grieve To go behind; Staunch, strenuous souls who scarce believe Their fires declined, And know none cares, remembers, spares Who go behind.
III
'Tis not that we have unforetold The drop behind; We feel the new must oust the old In every kind; But yet we think, must we, must WE, Too, drop behind?