Take this kiss
upon the brow!
And, in parting from
you now,
Thus much let me avow--
You are not wrong, who
deem
That my days have been
a dream;
Yet if hope has flown
away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the
less gone?
All that we see or
seem
Is but a dream within
a dream.
I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented
shore,
And I hold within my
hand
Grains of the golden
sand--
How few! yet how
they creep
Through my fingers
to the deep,
While I weep--while
I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter
clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless
wave?
Is all that we see or
seem
But a dream within
a dream?