Classic Poem

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.”