[00:07.30]Alfred, Lord Tennyson
[00:07.31]
[00:07.33]Oh yet we trust that somehow good
[00:13.29]Will be the final goal of ill,
[00:19.57]at last, far off, at last, to all,
[00:26.39]and every winter turn to spring.
[00:33.87]That nothing walks with aimless feet;
[00:41.55]that not one life shall be destroy,
[00:48.69]or cast as rubbish to the void.
[00:54.78]when god hath made the world complete
[01:06.85]oh
[01:30.24]That not a worm is cloven in vain;
[01:36.47]That not a moth with vain desire
[01:43.13]Is shrivelled in a fruitless fire,
[01:49.73]Or but subserves another's gain.
[01:54.03]
[02:25.82]??????
[02:53.67]Behold, we know not anything;
[03:00.53]I can but trust that good shall fall
[03:06.39]At last—far off—at last, to all,
[03:13.10]And every winter change to spring.
[03:18.31]
[03:22.14]So runs my dream: but what am I?
[03:28.22]An infant crying in the night:
[03:35.09]An infant crying for the light:
[03:41.58]And with no language but a cry.
[03:48.36]
[03:50.81]oh