Chamber Music


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 sleep to dreamier sleep be wed
Where soul with soul lies prisoned.

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