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Walt Witman(1819-1892) 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?
That you are here--that life exists, and identity;
That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.