O Me! O Life!

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.

Part of the cluster LEAVES OF GRASS.