Edgar Allan Poe

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow-
You not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In night, or in day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is about a dream whitin a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented 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 whitin a dream?


                                                                                                                            Edgar Allan Poe.-