The Heart Of The Woman – William Butler Yeats

O WHAT to me the little room 

That was brimmed up with prayer and rest; 

He bade me out into the gloom, 

And my breast lies upon his breast. 

O what to me my mother’s care, 

The house where I was safe and warm; 

The shadowy blossom of my hair 

Will hide us from the bitter storm. 

O hiding hair and dewy eyes, 

I am no more with life and death, 

My heart upon his warm heart lies, 

My breath is mixed into his breath.

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