Save my Titania and her Oberon!
For twenty-five their one-like summers count
Since the dim rapture of the bridal dream.
Such among mortals jubilant they call
The Silver Wedding,—rare and purer crown
Than the wreathed myrtle of the marriage morn.
All that is rare and pure is of our own;
Our elements mix gladly into joy:
But chiefly Love is our own atmosphere,
And chiefly those who love our pensioners