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?
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