सोमवार, 19 मार्च 2012

In Memoriam .

Wonder Paintings - Celestial Wonders by Our Creator

                 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;

                   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.

                  - Alfred Lord Tennyson .

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