Of that so sweet
My soul, dearest, is fain — -Soft arms that woo me to
And woo me to detain.
Ah, could they ever hold me
Gladly were I a prisoner!
Dearest, through interwoven
By love made tremulous,
That night allures me where
Nowise may trouble us;
But sleep to dreamier sleep be
Where soul with soul lies prisoned.
