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.