For works with similar titles, see To —.
TO
They tell me in Fashion's illumined saloon,
Where the dance lightly echoes the melody's tune,
Where Beauty and Grace weave the spell of delight,
And the waltz and mazourka mock Time in his flight,
Where they crown the gay hours with rarest of flowers,
No forms floating there are more lovely than yours;
That the brightest of balls wants a charm and a grace,
If your eyes refuse their soft light to the place.
I seek not—I love not the balls of the gay,
Where my lone spirit pines for its dear ones away;
I see not your beauty when deck'd for the dance,
When blossom and gem mock the blush and the glance;
You come not to me in the glow of your pride,
For you know I've a welcome, but nothing beside;
Yet you bring me a smile that is sweeter by far
Than the gay one whose light is the festival's star;
While with heart full of love, as your hands are of toys,
You bless sunny childhood by sharing its joys.
Oh! dearer its innocent rapture than all
The praises that follow the belle of the ball;
And you seem at such moments more graceful to me,
Than you would when array'd for the festival's glee.
Where the dance lightly echoes the melody's tune,
Where Beauty and Grace weave the spell of delight,
And the waltz and mazourka mock Time in his flight,
Where they crown the gay hours with rarest of flowers,
No forms floating there are more lovely than yours;
That the brightest of balls wants a charm and a grace,
If your eyes refuse their soft light to the place.
I seek not—I love not the balls of the gay,
Where my lone spirit pines for its dear ones away;
I see not your beauty when deck'd for the dance,
When blossom and gem mock the blush and the glance;
You come not to me in the glow of your pride,
For you know I've a welcome, but nothing beside;
Yet you bring me a smile that is sweeter by far
Than the gay one whose light is the festival's star;
While with heart full of love, as your hands are of toys,
You bless sunny childhood by sharing its joys.
Oh! dearer its innocent rapture than all
The praises that follow the belle of the ball;
And you seem at such moments more graceful to me,
Than you would when array'd for the festival's glee.