That I am here, though leaves shall fall
For through the crack that snakes the wall
I see the end where I begin
And Fortune smiles upon her kin
That I am rich, though have I naught
For never yet have I forgot
The gold that lies up on the sea
The jewels of Earth hung on a tree
That I am glad, though tears I shed
For weeping is the cure of dread
The just release of fears withheld
So bittersweet the truth to tell
That I am strong, though I may break
For once to feel for feeling's sake
To know the blessing and the curse
Of giving all to write my verse
Devon Pearse - My Verse
About Me
- Devon
- St. Augustine, Florida, United States
- 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. Walt Whitman - Leaves of Grass 1900 ***
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