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?
