THE ENCHANTED REALM OF JOY.
Oh! I am sick of the ennui that comes of the earth,
All tasteless its landscapes—and charmless its mirth.
Away, swift away, on a pinion, as sprite,
I will speed to a kingdom not day and not night:
Where a spell of enchantment as soft as a dream,
Moves over the mountain, the valley, and stream;
And the bird and the rill with a sleep-bringing rhyme,