Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me ow: You are not wrong who deem That my days he 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 se One from the pitiless we? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream?
This poem is in the public domain.