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[Of that so sweet imprisonment]

by James Joyce, 1907

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.

Published in Chamber Music
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