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.