and in parting from you now
this 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 less gone?
is all that we see or seem
but a dream within a dream?
i stand beneath the roar
of a surf-tormented shore
and I hold within my hands
grains of the golden sand
how few yet how they creep
from my fingers to the deep
while I weep - while I weep
oh god! can I not grasp
them with a tighter clasp?
oh god! can I not save
one from the pitiless wave?
all that we see or seem
is but a dream within a dream
about this poem:
this poem is rife with symbolism and scope, and no one moves words through your mind like edgar allen poe. his innate sense of rhythm, and his gift for economizing elegant phrases have made him the standard by which modern poets are judged.
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