YESTERDAY AND TODAY.

“Last night, dear Antoinette,” (’Tis thus a wooer writes, Whose thoughts are deeply set On love’s profound delights,) “Asleep within my chair Thy vision I did greet, And, joy beyond compare, I dreamed I kissed thee, sweet.” Ah, she was hurt, I fear, For, seeming ill at ease, She wrote, “To me it’s clear Thou’rt taking liberties. Such notions overthrow, Pray take to other schemes; ’Tis well that thou shouldst know I don’t believe in dreams.” Yet strange that when today I kissed her—oh, the bliss, The charm, the spell, that lay In that ecstatic kiss,— No fault she found; it seems, O maid of mysteries, That though she likes not dreams She courts realities! Nathan M. Levy.