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! Oh, God! can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? Oh, God! can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that I see or seem But a dream within a dream?
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