A DIALOGUE FROM PLATO “Le temps le mieux employé 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, 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 in 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 "But hear, the next's in stronger style: The Cynic School asserted That two red lips which part and smile She smiled once more-"My book, I find, Then I-"Why not? 'Ephesian law, She blushed-this time. "If Plato's page No wiser precept teaches, Then I'd renounce that doubtful sage,. "Agreed," I said. "For Socrates She read no more. I leapt the sill: LOVE IN WINTER BETWEEN the berried holly-bush The Blackbird whistled to the Thrush: "Which way did bright-eyed Bella go? Look, Speckle-breast, across the snow,Are those her dainty tracks I see, That wind beside the shrubbery?" The Throstle pecked the berries still. His callow beard was white with rime,- "What would you?" twittered in the Wren; "These are the reckless ways of men. I watched them bill and coo as though |