TO ________.
 
        The brilliant west is glowing,
            With sunset's farewell ray;
        The silver waves are flowing,
            On to the distant sea;
 
        The pale bright stars are keeping
            Their watch through night's still hours;
        The dews in joy are weeping
            Above the new-born flowers;
 
        The city's hum is dying
            Upon the perfumed breeze,
        That wanders, softly sighing,
            Among the flower-crowned trees.
 
        But my vagrant thoughts are roaming
            To loved ones far away;
        I heed not twilight's coming,
            Nor flowers, nor winds at play.
 
        Of a low, sweet voice I'm dreaming,
            More soft than the southwinds are,
        Of a gentle eye that is beaming,
            More bright than the Evening Star;
 
        And I read as many pages
            In the depths of that hazel eye,
        As were read by the Chaldean sages,
            In the glittering stars on high;
 
        And the dreams that float under the cover
            Of those snowy lids of thine,
        The thoughts in that young heart that hover,
            I have magic power to divine.