Comrade beloved, and helpful soulfellow

Comrade beloved, and helpful soulfellow,
I fear lest that fine pallor I admire,
Wherefrom by twilight of the rosy fire
Your eyes, like stars in limpid water, glow,
From pain and frequent weariness may flow !
Ah ! more than one who loved me and my lyre
Hath left me darkling, and hath risen higher ;
I pray thee, comrade, to abide below !

With tuneful voice, and with the Poet's heart
You sing to heal and gladden our sad time.
With Mary you have chosen the better part,
Shedding soul-rays upon our weary clime ;
Neither your friend will yield you, nor your
Art ;
He needs yourself, and she requires your rhyme.