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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, | | 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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By PanEris
using Melati.
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