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 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?.

I’m rather astounded that Minstrels doesn’t have this one already. I love this poem’s sense of sad futility, the desire to save the moments of one’s life from slipping away before the dream of living is ended. The questions raised cause me to look deep inside myself and ask “So, what’s the purpose? Is it real?”

I think many people have experienced that sensation of the time slipping away from them, and wanting to slow it down, stop it. Unable to do so, we stand there and let it slide through our fingers, losing precious moments forever, unable to stop time’s march.

And the question remains: Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream? Nobody knows, everybody wonders. Maybe we find out when all of those grains of sand have ended for each of us. Maybe not. It will be interesting to find out.

-Jenn