Classic Poem

RETOUCH, SWEET FRIEND — RETOUCH THE LUTE .

I.

Retouch , sweet Friend — retouch the Lute,
Its tones may turn thy thoughts on me;
Let not its chords be longer mute;
Remember, 'twas my gift to thee!
Wake then its wildest, sweetest strain,
And bid the past be ours again!

II.

Oh might it yield an answering sound
To all my wishes, hopes, and fears;
Nor e'er be mute or tuneless found
Till I forget thy parting tears;
Then would thy life, beloved, be
One round of tenderest minstrelsy!