Sunday Morning Post
- 3 Comments
- Written by Michelle on January 20th, 2008
Poetry, prose, or general musings.
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?
Answer.
That you are here-that life exists and identity,
That the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.
~by Walt Whitman~
- Posted in Michelle Oshen, Poetry, Prose, Quotes & Pictures, Sunday Morning, Walt Whitman
And true Joy is living life itself!
ReplyMy copy of “Leaves of Grass” is over 20 years old & all beaten to hell from use. Love that guy. And he was a NYer, too!
Reply@lux
ReplyNice!