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letra de o yet we trust - arthur bliss

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oh 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;
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
is 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

- arthur bliss

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