O ME!
O life!… of the questions of these recurring;
Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities fill'd with the foolish;
Of myself forever reproaching myself, (for who more foolish than I, and who more faithless?)Of eyes that vainly crave the light—of the objects mean—of the struggle ever renew'd;
Of the poor results of all—of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around me;
Of the empty and useless years of the rest—with the rest me intertwined;
The question,
O me! so sad, recurring—What good amid these,
O me,
O life? Answer. That you are here—that life exists, and identity; That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.
