In Memoriam A. H. H.: 54. Oh, yet we Trust that somehow Goo
Alfred Lord Tennyson 1809 – 1892
Oh, yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final end of ill,
To pangs of nature, sins of will,
Defects of doubt, and taints of blood;
That nothing walks with aimless feet;
That not one life shall be destroy'd,
Or cast as rubbish to the void,
When God hath made the pile complete;
That not a worm is cloven in vain;
That not a moth with vain desire
I shrivell'd in a fruitless fire,
Or but subserves another's gain.
Behold, we know not anything;
I can but trust that good shall fall
At last--far off--at last, to all,
And every winter change to spring.
So runs my dream: but what am I?
An infant crying in the night:
An infant crying for the light:
And with no language but a cry.
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Submitted on May 13, 2011
Modified on April 28, 2023
- 41 sec read
- 345 Views
Quick analysis:
Scheme | XAAXBCCBDEED FGGF HIIH |
---|---|
Closest metre | Iambic tetrameter |
Characters | 748 |
Words | 135 |
Stanzas | 3 |
Stanza Lengths | 12, 4, 4 |
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"In Memoriam A. H. H.: 54. Oh, yet we Trust that somehow Goo" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 17 Apr. 2024. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/1015/in-memoriam-a.-h.-h.:-54.-oh,-yet-we-trust-that-somehow-goo>.
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