Poem by James Joyce
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Poem by James Joyce

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.

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