O Me! O Life!

Walt Whitman - 1819-1892
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.

More by Walt Whitman

Sometimes with One I Love

Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with rage for fear I effuse
   unreturn'd love,
But now I think there is no unreturn'd love, the pay is certain
   one way or another,
(I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not return'd,
Yet out of that I have written these songs.)

A Noiseless Patient Spider

A noiseless patient spider,
I mark'd where on a little promontory it stood isolated,
Mark'd how to explore the vacant vast surrounding,
It launch'd forth filament, filament, filament, out of itself,
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.

And you O my soul where you stand,
Surrounded, detached, in measureless oceans of space,
Ceaselessly musing, venturing, throwing, seeking the spheres to connect them,
Till the bridge you will need be form'd, till the ductile anchor hold,
Till the gossamer thread you fling catch somewhere, O my soul.

America

Centre of equal daughters, equal sons, 
All, all alike endear'd, grown, ungrown, young or old,
Strong, ample, fair, enduring, capable, rich, 
Perennial with the Earth, with Freedom, Law and Love,
A grand, sane, towering, seated Mother,
Chair'd in the adamant of Time.