A Dream Within A Dream by Edgar Allan 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 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?

Spring In The South by Henry Van Dyke

Now in the oak the sap of life is welling,
Tho’ to the bough the rusty leafage clings;
Now on the elm the misty buds are swelling,
See how the pine-wood grows alive with wings;
Blue-jays fluttering, yodeling and crying,
Meadow-larks sailing low above the faded grass,
Red-birds whistling clear, silent robins flying,–
Who has waked the birds up? What has come to pass?

Last year’s cotton-plants, desolately bowing,
Tremble in the March-wind, ragged and forlorn;
Red are the hill-sides of the early ploughing,
Gray are the lowlands, waiting for the corn.
Earth seems asleep still, but she’s only feigning;
Deep in her bosom thrills a sweet unrest.
Look where the jasmine lavishly is raining
Jove’s golden shower into Danae’s breast!

Now on the plum the snowy bloom is sifted,
Now on the peach the glory of the rose,
Over the hills a tender haze is drifted,
Full to the brim the yellow river flows.
Dark cypress boughs with vivid jewels glisten,
Greener than emeralds shining in the sun.
Who has wrought the magic? Listen, sweetheart, listen!
The mocking-bird is singing Spring has begun.

Hark, in his song no tremor of misgiving!
All of his heart he pours into his lay,–
“Love, love, love, and pure delight of living:
Winter is forgotten: here’s a happy day!”
Fair in your face I read the flowery presage,
Snowy on your brow and rosy on your mouth:
Sweet in your voice I hear the season’s message,–
Love, love, love, and Spring in the South!

Vulnerable

I know I haven't been very understanding,
But please
Bear with me.
I want to be a mirror of empathy.
To not just reflect on how you feel,
But to truly feel it,
And know the misery you've experienced.
I want to be able to smile as bright as you did 
When you felt on top of the world.
The lows, I will not neglect those.
Take the words of your stories,
And tie my wrists together with them.
Let the tales of suffering burn me 
And let the tales of bliss heal me.
Please, just trust me,
Enough,
To be vulnerable.
Let me help you up when you reach the bottom
And rejoice with you when you reach the top,
As you have done for me.
It is now my turn to be there for you.

– J. S. Atkins