"O, Yet We Trust That Somehow Good Will Be The Final Goal Of Ill"
Context: The poet wants to compose poetry which will express the love he felt for his dead friend, Authur Hallam, but he despairs of doing so for fear that his words are trivial and unworthy of his love and of its object. This fear is called a needless one by the "Spirit of true love," which tells him that spirits live on, unaffected by human failings, and that he must not cast away his love merely because it is not perfect. One must find the good in life and treasure it, ignoring the rest; God has made everything for a purpose, and all, even that which appears evil, will ultimately serve the good that He has designed.
O, 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. . . .