Poem of the day

In Memoriam A. H. H.: 54. Oh, Yet We Trust That Somehow Goo
 by Alfred Lord Tennyson

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;
...

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