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 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?