What use to brood ? this mingled life of pains Spring". 



And joys to me, 

 Despite of every Faith and Creed, remains 



The mystery. 



The silver year should cease to mourn and sigh 



Not long to wait 

 So close are we, dear Mary, you and I 



To that dim gate." 



The wish to share what we have with those we love 

 cannot, I think, be more charmingly expressed than is done 

 in these verses by the poet of the generation now passing 

 away, the Tennyson we loved in our youth. 



MARIA THERESA EARLE. 



