| 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, | 5 |
| 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, | 10 |
| My heart upon his warm heart lies, | |
| My breath is mixed into his breath. |
