Walt Whitman: Poems

Walt Whitman: Wherefore?

O me! O life!--of the questions of these recurring;

Of the endless trains of the faithless--of cities filled with the foolish;

Of myself for ever 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 renewed;

Of the poor results of all--of the plodding and sordid crowds I see around


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?