It is nearly thirty years since I met the English poet, Charles Mackay, at Louisville, on his travels in America. At that time he gave me the following poem suggested by our conversation. I do not think that he has ever published it:
Why, this longing, clay-clad spirit?
Why this fluttering of wings?
Why this striving to discover
Hidden and transcendent things?
Thou wouldst fathom Life and Being,
Thou wouldst see through Birth and Death.
Thou wouldst solve the eternal Riddle,
Thou, a speck, a ray, a breath!
Be at peace, thou struggling spirit,