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- THE HEART OF A WOMAN
- -W. B. 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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