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 sleep to dreamier sleep be wed

where soul with soul lies prisoned.