Joyce - Chamber Music

XXII

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.

Tongue-tied

Observation: I am an uninteresting person. I have nothing to say. Nothing.
Seinfeldian inference: Talk about how there is nothing to talk about