O whatto 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.