To touch my person to some one else's is about as much as I can stand, - Walt Whitman

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.

A child said What is the grass? fetching it to me with full hands;
How could I answer the child? I do not know what it is any more
than he.

O you youths, Western youths,
So impatient, full of action, full of manly pride and friendship,
Plain I see you Western youths, see you tramping with the foremost,
Pioneers! O pioneers!