Sehnsucht Poem by David Mitchell

The birds their evening song do sing;
The fresh wind seems to heave;
And with their song the air does ring,
All on a summer's eve.

I hear their song each balmy night
Pierce my soul like a dart,
And gaze into the dwindling light,
And something fills my heart.

What shall I call this fleeting sense?
Awe, wonder, sorrow, pain,
Joy, longing, yearning? This immense
Desire may come again:

But it is not meant for this life;
'Tis not for something here;
Although indeed it eases strife
And helps us conquer fear.

Know ye that God created
A heaven as well as earth,
And that for you he fated
A death as well as birth?

The light is now grown dimmer,
The last birds cease their sound;
Some lamps in windows glimmer,
And rain falls to the ground.

I praise God for the wonder
And beauty of this hour:
As terrible as thunder
A gentle evening shower.

Once I shall die; no longer
Shall listen to the patter of the rain,
And the birdsong, while men to come, not stronger,
Shall come to know life's happiness and pain.

Though never again shall my heart beat,
And never shall I speak another word,
The cool wind will lessen the sun's heat still,
And the birdsong will continue to be heard.