poetry 102

A Dream Within a Dream
- by Edgar Allen Poe

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 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?

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maybe it's the way poets express themselves.. the way they say what's on their mind or in their heart.. how they paint for you a vivid picture of their emotions.. that makes their works so moving.

writing good poetry.. painting a masterpiece.. composing a moving melody.. formulating a wonderful theorem (yup, i just *had* to include this here hehe) - all are ways of achieving immortality, in a way.

*sigh* i am such a frustrated artist.. =p