Her peony lips would part
As if none such a place for a lover to quaff
At the deeps of a heart.

Julie, O girl of joy,
Soon, soon that lover he came.
Ah, yes; and gave thee a baby-boy,
But never his name . . .

--Tolling for her, as you guess;
And the baby too . . . 'Tis well.
You knew her in maidhood likewise?--Yes,
That's her burial bell.

"I suppose," with a laugh, she said,
"I should blush that I'm not a wife;
But how can it matter, so soon to be dead,
What one does in life!"

When we sat making the mourning
By her death-bed side, said she,
"Dears, how can you keep from your lovers, adorning
In honour of me!"

Bubbling and brightsome eyed!
But now--O never again.
She chose her bearers before she died
From her fancy-men.

NOTE.--It is, or was, a common custom in Wessex, and probably other country