My mistress dreams—and me forgot;
For parlour silks I cannot care;
⁠Abroad she will not roam.
But birds invite to sandy grot;
Good warren folk await me there;
⁠So I go home.

Her human sprite’s flown out of house;
Her shoe scarce prints the painted mat;
⁠She dreams of fay and gnome,
And such as in full moon carouse:
So, soft, tap this foot, softlier that—
⁠And I go home.