From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were -- I have not seen
As others saw -- I could not bring
My passions from a common spring --
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow -- I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone --
And all I lov'd -- I lov'd alone --
Then -- in my childhood -- in the dawn
Of a most stormy life -- was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still --
From the torrent, or the fountain --
From the red cliff of the mountain --
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold --
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by --
From the thunder, and the storm --
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view --

And, in leaving from you now
And let me say this --
You are not wrong, who say
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
During the night, or during the day
In a vision, or in none
Is it then the less gone?
All that we see or how we seem
Is but a dream within a dream

I stand amid the noise 
Of the wave battered shore,
And I hold in my hand
Grains of the yellow sand--
How few! yet how they fall
Through my fingers to the deep,
As I cry-- As I cry!
Oh God! Can I not hold 
Them with a tighter grip?
Oh God! Can I not save
One grain from the wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?