Thou art rest and gentle peace,
Thou art longing, and that which stills it.
I consecrate to thee, with my joys and griefs,
as thy dwelling-place, my eyes and heart.
Enter into me and close thou
The gates softly behind thee:
Drive other griefs from this breast,
Let this heart be filled with thy joys.
My world of sight thy radiance
Alone can illuminate. O, fill it to the full!
By F. Rückert
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