"Friends, royal darlings of mine ancient age, Welcome, right welcome, in the realm of sound To majesty and honor! Sooth to say Long time I languished for your presences That nothing save our Music seeks and finds; Though Poesy seeks to find and has not met, As we, through might of Music, face to face. Your potence is my boon; I bid it work With mine own spells, in soul-like, eager flame To flash about my spirit and make day, Till, as in times of old, we shine as one. Far in those undulating vales apart A castle lifts its glittering ghostly hue, In whose calm walls, that years spare tenderly, Dwelleth the rival soul of Faërie And Music,--one whose very name is spell Immutable,--for that fixed name is Love. And Love holds yonder his best festal rite This evening, when the moontime draweth nigh. Twain souls love there, and meet; but not as cleft By late long parting--they have met and loved Years upon years, since youth; none ever loved So long as they unparted, unappalled, 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 Remain,--for where unsullied Love remains, Doth Faërie consecrate its festal strains."