| 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 fool-
ish 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? |
| That you are here—that life exists, and identity; |
|
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a
verse. |