Oh yet we trust that somehow good
Oh yet we trust that somehow goodWill 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 desireIs shrivel’d in a fruitless fire,Or but subserves another’s gain.
Behold! we know not anything;I can but trust that good shall fallAt 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.
Words in this poem
- somehow adv.
- In one way or another; in some way not yet known or designated; by some means; as, the thing must be done somehow; he lives somehow.
- aimless a.
- Without aim or purpose; as, an aimless life.
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- fruitless a.
- Lacking, or not bearing, fruit; barren; destitute of offspring; as, a fruitless tree or shrub; a fruitless marriage.
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
Oh yet we trust that somehow good is in the public domain. This text is taken from In memoriam, Project Gutenberg ebook #70950; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Alfred Tennyson, Oh yet we trust that somehow good, in In Memoriam A.H.H. (1850), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #70950, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/tennyson-in-memoriam/section-53.html, id L18413.
Form and metre
Oh yet we trust that somehow good is 20 lines in 5 stanzas of 4 lines each. Every stanza rhymes ABBA. The metre is iambic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 94%). 100% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.2 syllables. 2 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 15% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in iambic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABBA goodA · illB · willB · bloodA
- 2 ABBA feetA · destroy'dB · voidB · completeA
- 3 ABBA vainA · desireB · fireB · gainA
- 4 ABBA anythingA · fallB · allB · springA
- 5 ABBA iA · nightB · lightB · cryA
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against iambic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Oh yet we trust that somehow good | 8 | ·····/·· |
| Will be the final goal of ill, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| To pangs of nature, sins of will, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| Defects of doubt, and taints of blood; | 8 | /˘······ |
| That nothing walks with aimless feet; | 8 | ·/˘··/˘· |
| That not one life shall be destroy’d, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| Or cast as rubbish to the void, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| When God hath made the pile complete; | 8 | ······˘/ |
| That not a worm is cloven in vain; | 9 | ·····/˘·· |
| That not a moth with vain desire | 9 | ······˘/˘ |
| Is shrivel’d in a fruitless fire, | 9 | ·/˘··/˘/˘ |
| Or but subserves another’s gain. | 8 | ····˘/˘· |
| Behold! we know not anything; | 8 | ˘/···/˘· |
| I can but trust that good shall fall | 8 | ········ |
| At last--far off--at last, to all, | 8 | ········ |
| And every winter change to spring. | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| So runs my dream: but what am I? | 8 | ········ |
| An infant crying in the night: | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| An infant crying for the light: | 8 | ·/˘/˘··· |
| And with no language but a cry. | 8 | ···/˘··· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.