"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? Answer.That you are here-that life exists, and identity; That the powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse."