On desperate seas long wont to roam,Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face,Thy Naiad airs have brought me home To the glory that was Greece, And the grandeur that was Rome.
Beauty Comes First
WE CREATE PERPETUAL SPIRIT
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! Can I not grasp Them with a tighter clasp? Can I not save One from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem But a dream within a dream.
