O Me! O Life!

O me! O Life!.. of the questions of these recurring
Of the endless trains of the faithless -- of cities fill's 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 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

~Walt Whitman