HEIMWEH

[ZaunköniG]

HEIMWEH

AH, could it be once more ere life's wan close- ! —
That I might climb the long ancestral hill
Where the smooth slope dips to the shattered mill,
And the shrunk brook amid its alders flows ;

Feel the soft wind that down the valley blows ;
Hear in the dewy hush the whip-poor-will
Thresh the gray silence, and through evening's chill
Breathe once again the scent of thyme and rose :

Then would great peace flood all my avid breast ;
Welcome would be the dusk of twilight skies :
And as a late bird hastens to her nest

Through deepening gloom with little happy cries,
So should I seek the covert of my rest,
And give to death my sleep-consenting eyes.