O Me! O Life!


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.


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O Me! O Life!