Oh me! Oh 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
    may contribute a verse.