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.

INDEX

FRANCIS WILLIAM BOURDILLON
THE NIGHT HAS A THOUSAND EYES

ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE

When our Two Souls

"CHILDE ROLAND TO THE DARK TOWER CAME
DAWN

EPILOGUE TO ASOLANDO

ON A LUTE FOUND IN A SARCOPHAGUS

THE MENAD'S GRAVE

SESTINA

43

44

47

49

50

50

51

52

52

52