My guilty heart is quaking;
Oh, that I might retrace
The step that I am taking!
Its folly it were easy to be showing;
What am I giving up, and whither going?
On the one hand, papa’s luxurious home,
Hung with ancestral armour and old brasses,
Carved oak, and tapestry from distant Rome,
Rare “blue and white,” Venetian finger glasses,
Rich oriental rugs and sofa pillows,