Poe....
A Dream Within a Dream
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 seen 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?
A Dream
In vision of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed,
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.
Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?
That holy dream-- that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.
What though that light, thro' storm and night,
So trembled from afar,
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth's day-star?
The Happiest Day-- the Happiest Hour
The happiest day-- the happiest hour
My sear'd and blighted heart hath known,
The highest hope of pride and power,
I feel hath flown.
Of power! said I? such I ween;
But they have vanish'd long, alas!
The visions of my youth have been--
But let them pass.
And, pride, what have I now with thee?
Another brow may ev'n inherit
The venom thou has pour'd on me--
Be still, my spirit.
The happiest day-- the happiest hour
Mine eyes shall see-- have ever seen,
The brightest glance of pride and power
I feel-- have been:
But were that hope of pride and power
Now offer'd, with the pain
Ev'n then I felt-- that brightest hour
I would not live again:
For on its wing was dark allow
And as it flutter'd-- fell
An essence-- powerful to destroy
A soul that knew it well.
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 seen 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?
A Dream
In vision of the dark night
I have dreamed of joy departed,
But a waking dream of life and light
Hath left me broken-hearted.
Ah! what is not a dream by day
To him whose eyes are cast
On things around him with a ray
Turned back upon the past?
That holy dream-- that holy dream,
While all the world were chiding,
Hath cheered me as a lovely beam
A lonely spirit guiding.
What though that light, thro' storm and night,
So trembled from afar,
What could there be more purely bright
In Truth's day-star?
The Happiest Day-- the Happiest Hour
The happiest day-- the happiest hour
My sear'd and blighted heart hath known,
The highest hope of pride and power,
I feel hath flown.
Of power! said I? such I ween;
But they have vanish'd long, alas!
The visions of my youth have been--
But let them pass.
And, pride, what have I now with thee?
Another brow may ev'n inherit
The venom thou has pour'd on me--
Be still, my spirit.
The happiest day-- the happiest hour
Mine eyes shall see-- have ever seen,
The brightest glance of pride and power
I feel-- have been:
But were that hope of pride and power
Now offer'd, with the pain
Ev'n then I felt-- that brightest hour
I would not live again:
For on its wing was dark allow
And as it flutter'd-- fell
An essence-- powerful to destroy
A soul that knew it well.