Yest darkmans dream'd I of my dell, [1]
When sleep did overtake her;
It was a dimber drowsy mort, [2]
She slept, I durst not wake her.

II

Her gans were like to coral red, [3]
A thousand times I kiss'd 'em;
A thousand more I might have filch'd' [4]
She never could have miss'd 'em.

III

Her strammel, curl'd, like threads of gold, [5]
Hung dangling o'er the pillow;
Great pity 'twas that one so prim,
Should ever wear the willow.

IV

I turned down the lilly slat, [6]
Methought she fell a screaming,
This startled me; I straight awak'd,
And found myself but dreaming.

[1: evening]
[2: pretty]
[3: lips]
[4: stolen]