Is the witchery of this changing scene;
Though half I’m dreaming, though half awake,
I fear to move lest the spell I break,
Lest my fairy castles will break and fall,
And down will tumble each beautiful wall.
Thus still in a stupor I sit and gaze
At the glowing embers and wanton blaze;
I am smiling at Fancy; she tries in vain
To lure me along with the mad’ning train
That follow her footsteps—that to her cling,