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; | 5 |
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. |
Monday, September 13, 2010
Thoughts of Whitman on these Russian Streets
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