by William Butler Yeats (1865 - 1939)

The heart of the woman
Language: English 
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. 

First published in Speaker, July 1894

Authorship:

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Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2009-01-19
Line count: 12
Word count: 85