Oh me! Oh 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 may contribute a verse.
What's your verse?
