Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
A Dream within a dream,
Thus much let me avow-
You are not wrong, who deem,
I stand amid the roar,
Of a surf-tormented shore,
That my days have been a dream
And I hold within my hand,
Grains of certain golden sand,
Yet if hope has flown away,
In a night, or in a day,
How few! Yet how they creep,
Through my fingers to the deep,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
While I weep- while I weep!
O Satan! Can I not grasp?
All that we see or seem,
Is but a dream within a dream,
Is all that we see or seem.