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.