Walt Whitman

O ME! O life!... of the questions of these recurring;

Of the endless trains of the faithless—of cities filled 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 renewed;

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