Softly She Sings

Softly she sings, of a faraway land,
Where the meadows all glisten with dew . . .
With ginger and jasmine scenting the air,
Where the elusive Phoenix once flew

With castles aplenty, inhabited by
Souls all kindred in heart . . .
Where fulfillment is the rule of the land,
And disharmony has no part

Softly she sings, of a place in her heart, 
Where the essense of all that land dwells . . .
Where peace is the stream, that waters the fields,
And love flows from eternal wells.

Wanda Kay's questions:

Is this poem repulsively mushy/dreamy?

Is the punctuation OK?  Would it be better without any?