And such a sweet pretty home as it is!
What shall I do with my exquisite bliss?
How can I ever be charming enough,
Where rumpling a roseleaf will make the path rough?
How can I thank the great Father above
For showing His child such abundance of love?
With Harry a home in a hovel were sweet,
And this is a palace that lies at my feet.

I look at the gardens spread out in the sun,
Where every rosebud a prize might have won;
Where lilies lift up tinted crowns to the skies,
And clematis strike you aghast by their size;
Where lawns smooth as ice tempt your feet as they pass,
Though only a fairy should tread on such grass;
And big forest trees on the slopes, spread afar
Those branches that grander than anything are.

I sweep through the rooms where the mirrors portray
A slender young thing in a robe of pale gray,
And catching quick glimpses, now here and now there,
I own with delight she is graceful and fair;
I study the creature, and smile as I see
How handsome a woman one day she may be;
I draw myself up with a stately expanse
And try to look grand, while I'm longing to dance;
I flourish, I curtsey, I slip and I slide;--
This will do for a wife, this is fit for a bride.
I smile and I bow, in a dignified way,