Beside A Bier
I HAD never kissed her her whole life long,—
Now I stand by her bier, does she feel
How with love that the waiting years made strong,
I set on her lips my seal?
Will she wear my kiss in the grave’s long night,
And wake sometimes with a thrill,
From dreams of the old life’s missed delight,
To feel that the grave is chill?
“It was warm,” will she say, “in that world above;
It was warm, but I did not know
How he loved me there, with his whole life’s love,—
It is cold down here below.”
Louise Chandler Moulton.