W.B. Yeats (1865–1939). The Wind Among the Reeds. 1899.
12. The Heart of the Woman
O
That was brimmed up with prayer and rest;
He bade me out into the gloom,
And my breast lies upon his breast.
The house where I was safe and warm;
The shadowy blossom of my hair
Will hide us from the bitter storm.
I am no more with life and death,
My heart upon his warm heart lies,
My breath is mixed into his breath.