From the German. Wanderer’s Night-Songs

(Wandrers Nachtlied and Ein Gleiches)
By Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I

THOU that from the heavens art,

Every pain and sorrow stillest,

And the doubly wretched heart

Doubly with refreshment fillest,

I am weary with contending!

Why this rapture and unrest?

Peace descending

Come, ah, come into my breast!

O’er all the hill-tops

Is quiet now,

In all the tree-tops

Hearest thou

Hardly a breath;

The birds are asleep in the trees:

Wait; soon like these

Thou too shalt rest.