I think N, in his autumn years, is mourning his losses, both past and anticipated. The imminent losses are the hardest to bear: so brave, and so few are left.
The title implies untimely loss, since the Scots reserve that lament for the funerals of those who die early.
N is also grieving for himself, I suppose.
I'm grateful to everybody for their encouraging and insightful comments. Especial thanks to Cathy for her careful and brilliant exegesis.
Best regards,
David
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