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?









