E. A. Poe
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 wawe?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?
20.01.2005. u 14:29 | Prijavi nepoćudni blog | Dodaj komentar
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