Thursday, August 22, 2013

Yeats

The Heart of The Woman



















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,         5
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,  10
My heart upon his warm heart lies, 
My breath is mixed into his breath.
















1 comment:

Jeni said...

A lovely excerpt...