William Butler Yeats
The Heart Of The Woman
Poem by 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.
Comments about The Heart Of The Woman by William Butler Yeats
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.