The Wanderer's Night-song

The Wanderer's Night-song

THOU who comest from on high,

Who all woes and sorrows stillest,
Who, for twofold misery,

Hearts with twofold balsam fillest,
Would this constant strife would cease!

What are pain and rapture now?
Blissful Peace,

To my bosom hasten thou!

1789.

_____________________________________________
THE SAME.

[Written at night on the Kickelhahn, a hill in the forest of
Ilmenau, on the walls of a little hermitage where Goethe composed
the last act of his Iphigenia.]

HUSH'D on the hill

Is the breeze;

Scarce by the zephyr

The trees

Softly are press'd;
The woodbird's asleep on the bough.
Wait, then, and thou

Soon wilt find rest.

1783.

-THE END-
Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's poem: The Wanderer's Night-song

GO TO TOP OF SCREEN