Of that so sweet imprisonment My soul, dearest, is fain — — Soft arms that woo me to relent And woo me to detain. Ah, could they ever hold me there Gladly were I a prisoner!
Dearest, through interwoven arms
By love made tremulous,
That night allures me where alarms
Nowise may trouble us;
But lseep to dreamier sleep be wed
Where soul with soul lies prisoned.