Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE RIDDLE, by HENRY AUSTIN DOBSON


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THE RIDDLE, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: What like wert thou, o riddle of our race!
Last Line: And art thyself thine own memorial.
Alternate Author Name(s): Dobson, Austin
Subject(s): Riddles


'Others abide our question.' -- MATTHEW ARNOLD.

WHAT like wert thou, O Riddle of our Race!
Whose intent eye the minds of men could see,
And, by excess of intuition, trace
In the dull germ its full maturity?

Thou, 'of imagination all compact,'
Alone among thy fellows, could'st ally
The thought and word, the impulse and the act,
Cause and effect, unerringly. But why?

None can make answer! To our ken a shade,
Thou -- for whom souls lay open -- art as dark
As formless phantoms of the night that fade
With daybreak and the singing of the lark.

We may explore thy Secret still, yet thou,
Serene, unsearchable, above us all,
Look'st down, as from some lofty mountain-brow,
And art thyself thine own Memorial.





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