XXII
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.
Of That So Sweet Imprisonment
James Joyce
(1)
Poem topics: night, sleep, sweet, prisoner, hold, soft, trouble, love, I love you, soul, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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