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?

Autor: Edgar Allan Poe

I stand amid the roar<br />Of a surf-tormented shore,<br />And I hold within my hand<br />Grains of the golden sand-<br />How few! yet how they creep<br />Through my fingers to the deep,<br />While I weep- while I weep!<br />O God! can I not grasp<br />Them with a tighter clasp?<br />O God! can I not save<br />One from the pitiless wave?<br />Is all that we see or seem<br />But a dream within a dream? - Edgar Allan Poe



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