Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In night, or in a day,
In 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 beneath 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 save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?