W. C. Scully - The Choice lyrics

How often is it that our onward path Divides in twain, whilst, at the junction, stand Two fates, and each a garland proffereth, Of buds of promise twined, with outstretched hand. The one is Duty called, her visage hath The clearer light, and of her promised land She tells high tidings, whilst, with stern command, She points to roads that lead, perchance, to d**h! The other is more beautiful; her face Glows in the sunlight, and her lovelit eyes Shew in their limpid wells the deeps of space, Star-strewn with hopes, and fairest prophecies. Her name is Inclination; but no peace Dwells in her smile, nor on her pathway lies.