Take this kiss upon the brow !
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow --
You are not wrong, to 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 !
Oh, God ! Can I not grisp
Them with a tighter clasp ?
Oh, God ! Can I not safe
One from the pitiless wove ?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream ?
