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?