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.