ngelus,
(Ere I was dead),
Angels all glorious
Came to my bed;
Angels in blue and white
Crowned on the Head."

M. Vieuxbois (drowsily)
"She was an Angel"... "Once she laughed"...
What, was I dreaming?
Where's the draught?

Babette (showing the empty cup)
The draught, M'sieu'?

M. Vieuxbois
How I forget!
I am so old! But sing, Babette!

Babette (sings)
"One was the Friend I left
Stark in the Snow;
One was the Wife that died
Long,--long ago;
One was the Love I lost...
How could she know?"

M. Vieuxbois (murmuring)
Ah, Paul!... old Paul!... Eulalie too!
And Rose... And O! "the sky so blue!"

Babette (sings)
"One had my Mother's eyes,
Wistful and mild;
One had my Father's face;
One was a Child:
All of them bent to me,--
Bent down and smiled!"
(He is asleep!)

M. Vieuxbois (almost inaudibly)
"How I forget!"
"I am so old!"... "Good-night, Babette!"

Austin Dobson [1840-1921]

A DIALOGUE FROM PLATO
Le tempo le mieux employe est celui qu'on perd.--Claude Tillier

I'd "read" three hours. Both notes and text
Were fast a mist becoming;
In bounced a vagrant bee, perplexed,
And filled the room with humming,

Then out. The casement's leafage sways,
And, parted light, discloses
Miss Di., with hat and book,--a maze
Of muslin mixed with roses.

"You're reading Greek?" "I am--and you?"
"O, mine's a mere romancer!"
"So Plato is." "Then read him--do;
And I'll read mine for answer."

I read: "My Plato (Plato, too--
That wisdom thus should harden!)
Declares 'blue eyes look doubly blue
Beneath a Dolly Varden.'"

She smiled. "My book in turn avers
(No author's name is stated)
That sometimes those Philosophers
Are sadly mistranslated."

"But hear,--the next's in stronger style:
The Cynic School asserted
That two red lips which part and smile
May not be controverted!"

She smiled once more. "My book, I find,
Observes some modern doctors
Would make the Cynics out a kind
Of album-verse concoctors."

Then I: "Why not? 'Ephesian law,
No less than time's tradition,
Enjoined fair speech on all who saw
Diana's apparition."

She blushed,--this time. "If Plato's page
No wiser precept teaches,
Then I'd renounce that doubtful sage,
And walk to Burnham Beeches."

"Agreed," I said. "For Socrates
(I find he too is talking)
Thinks Learning can't remain at ease
When Beauty goes a-walking."

She read no more. I leapt the sill:
The sequel's scarce essential--
Nay, m