Take this kiss upon the brow！

    And， in parting from you now，

    Thus much let me avow¹：

    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？

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