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, Soothe the gliding away of the current of time. Away, swift away to this dream-world of bliss— From a place all so tiresome and tasteless as this. And would I might ever abandon its beams That radiate but feebly, to dwell by the streams That gleam from the mountains of green fairyland, And, at last, in bright morn of Heaven expand.