Soft and softlier hold me, friends! Thanks if your genial care Unbind and give me to the air. Keep your lips or finger-tips For flute or spinet's dancing chips; I await a tenderer touch, I ask more or not so much: Give me to the atmosphere,— Where is the wind, my brother,—where? Lift the sash, lay me within, Lend me your ears, and I begin. For gentle harp to gentle hearts The secret of the world imparts; And not to-day and not to-morrow Can drain its wealth of hope and sorrow; But day by day, to loving ear Unlocks new sense and loftier cheer. I've come to live with you, sweet friends, This home my minstrel-journeyings ends. Many and subtle are my lays, The latest better than the first, For I can mend the happiest days And charm the anguish of the worst.