(no subject)

[cor_bealaigh]

 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

J.J.