Verse > Anthologies > The World’s Best Poetry > Vol. IV. The Higher Life
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Bliss Carman, et al., eds.  The World’s Best Poetry.
Volume IV. The Higher Life.  1904.
 
IV. Sabbath: Worship: Creed
“O yet we trust that somehow good”
Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1809–1892)
 
From “In Memoriam,” LIII.

O YET we trust that somehow good
  Will be the final goal of ill,
  To pangs of nature, sins of will,
Defects of doubt, and taints of blood;
 
That nothing walks with aimless feet;        5
  That not one life shall be destroyed,
  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        10
  Is shrivelled 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,        15
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.        20
 
 
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