Far distant from the world’s dominions,
My solitary days and nights beguile
In sending out, swift as careering wind,
My messenger with starry pinions—
That he may speed and find
The shapes and hues of beauty which adorn
The land, the unreal land where he was born!
Oh then, what strange enchantment I behold!
A Fairy palace, built of pearls and gold
Upon a slope of emerald. Myriads swarm