Arthur Conan Doyle

“ The learning which in colleges is found,
Yet may a hungry brain still find its food
Wherever books may lie or men may be;
And though perchance by Isis or by Cam
The meditative, philosophic plant
May best luxuriate; yet some would say
That in the task of limning mortal life
A fitter preparation might be made
Beside the banks of Thames. And then again,
If I be suspect, in that I was not
A fellow of a college, how, I pray,
Will Jonson pass, or Marlowe, or the rest,
Whose measured verse treads with as proud a gait
As that which was my own? ”

“ DECEMBER'S SNOW The bloom is on the May once more, The chestnut buds have burst anew; But, darling, all our springs are o'er, 'Tis winter still for me and you. We plucked Life's blossoms long ago What's left is but December's snow. But winter has its joys as fair, The gentler joys, aloof, apart; The snow may lie upon our hair But never, darling, in our heart. Sweet were the springs of long ago But sweeter still December's snow. ”

“ An orphan's heart May beat the lighter if you do.
SEXAGENARIUS LOQUITUR From our youth to our age We have passed each stage In old immemorial order, From primitive days Through flowery ways With love like a hedge as their border. Ah, youth was a kingdom of joy, And we were the king and the queen, When I was a year Short of thirty, my dear, And you were just nearing nineteen. But dark follows light And day follows night As the old planet circles the sun; And nature still traces Her score on our faces And tallies the years as they run. ”

“ Hope for what is waning, Hope for what is gaining, Hope for what is waiting When the long day is done. Hope that He, the nameless, May still be best and blameless, Nor ever end His highest With the earthworm and the slime. Hope that o'er the border, There lies a land of order, With higher law to reconcile The lower laws of Time. Hope that every vexed life, Finds within that next life, Something that may recompense, Something that may cheer. ”

“ The fungus is the master still.
DARKNESS A gentleman of wit and charm, A kindly heart, a cleanly mind, One who was quick with hand or purse, To lift the burden of his kind. A brain well balanced and mature, A soul that shrank from all things base, So rode he forth that winter day, Complete in every mortal grace. ”

“ THE ORPHANAGE When, ere the tangled web is reft, The kid-gloved villain scowls and sneers, And hapless innocence is left With no assets save sighs and tears, 'Tis then, just then, that in there stalks The hero, watchful of her needs; He talks, Great heavens how he talks! But we forgive him, for his deeds. Life is the drama here to-day And Death the villain of the plot. ”

“ And right and ill are tools of skill Held in His either hand. 3 The harlot and the anchorite, The martyr and the rake, Deftly He fashions each aright, Its vital part to take. 4 Wisdom He makes to form the fruit Where the high blossoms be; And Lust to kill the weaker shoot, And Drink to trim the tree. 5 And Holiness that so the bole Be solid at the core; And Plague and Fever, that the whole Be changing evermore. 6 He strews the microbes in the lung, The blood-clot in the brain; With test and test He picks the best, Then tests them once again. ”

“ But perchance the arch above us Is one great mirror's span, And the Figure seen so dimly Is a vast reflected man. If it is love that gave us A thousand blossoms bright, Why should that love not save us From poisoned aconite? If this man blesses sunshine Which sets his fields aglow, Shall that man curse the tempest That lays his harvest low? If you may sing His praises For health He gave to you, What of this spine-curved cripple, Shall he sing praises too? ”

“ So our little journey ended, Gladness and instruction blended — Not a care to spoil our pleasure, Not a thought to break our leisure, Drifting on from Sussex hedges Up through Yorkshire's fells and ledges Past the deserts and morasses Of the dreary Border passes, Through the scenes of Scottish story Past the fields of battles gory. In the future it will seem To have been a happy dream, But unless my hopes are vain We may dream it soon again. ”

“ BENDY'S SERMON
[Bendigo, the well-known Nottingham prize fighter, became converted to religion, and preached at revival meetings throughout the country.]
You didn't know of Bendigo! Well, that knocks me out!
Who's your board school teacher? What's he been about?
Chock-a-block with fairy-tales—full of useless cram,
And never heard o' Bendigo, the pride of Nottingham!
Bendy's short for Bendigo. You should see him peel!
Half of him was whalebone, half of him was steel,
Fightin' weight eleven ten, five foot nine in height,
Always ready to oblige if you want a fight. ”

“ That when the light falls dimmer, Still some God-sent glimmer May hold us steadfast ever, To the track that we should keep. Hope for the trending of it, Hope for the ending of it, Hope for all around us, That it ripens in the sun. ”

“ But ere the motor went aboard The Pass of Melfort we explored. A lovelier vale, more full of peace, Was never seen in classic Greece; A wondrous gateway, reft and torn, To open out the land of Lome. Leading on for many a mile To the kingdom of Argyle. Wednesday saw us on our way Steaming out from Oban Bay, (Lord, it was a fearsome day!) To right and left we looked upon All the lands of Stevenson — Moidart, Morven, and Ardgour, Ardshiel, Appin, and Mamore — If their tale you wish to learn Then to "Kidnapped" you must turn. Strange that one man's eager brain Can make those dead lands live again! ”

“ Out seaward hung the brooding mist We saw it rolling, fold on fold, And marked the great Sun alchemist Turn all its leaden edge to gold, Look well, look well, oh lady mine, The gray below, the gold above, For so the grayest life may shine All golden in the light of love. ”

“ Father, father, who is that a-murmuring?
⁠Who is it who murmurs in the night?
⁠⁠You say it is the roar
⁠⁠Of the wave upon the shore,
But there's someone who murmurs in the night.
Father, father, who is that who laughs at us? ”

“ With their tartans for their shrouds,
Menzies, Malcolms from the islands,
Frasers from the upper Highlands—
Callous is the passer by
Who can turn without a sigh
From the tufts of heather deep
Where the noble clansmen sleep. ”

“ THE END
'Tell me what to get and I will get it.
⁠'Then get that picture—that—the girl in white.'
'Now tell me where you wish that I should set it.'
⁠'Lean it where I can see it—in the light.'
'If there is more, sir, you have but to say it.'
⁠'Then bring those letters—those which lie apart.'
'Here is the packet! Tell me where to lay it.'
⁠'Stoop over, nurse, and lay it on my heart.'
'Thanks for your silence, nurse! You understand me!
⁠And now I'll try to manage for myself. ”

“ Great was his soul and high his aim,
He viewed the world, and he could trace
A lofty plan to leave his name
Immortal 'mid the human race.
But as he planned, and as he worked,
The fungus spore within him lurked. ”

“ I see him loyal, good, and wise, I feel decision in his hand, I read his honour in his eyes. Manliest among men is he With every gift and grace to clothe him; He never loved a girl but me — And I — I loathe him! ”

“ Who shall pity then the lameness,
⁠Which still holds me from the ground?
Who commiserate the sameness
⁠Of the scene that girds me round?
Though I lie a broken wreck,
⁠Though I seem to want for all,
Still the world is at my beck
⁠And the ages at my call. ”

“ Five repentant fightin' men, sitting in a row, Listenin' to words of grace from Mister Bendigo, Listenin' to his reverence — all as good as gold, Pretty little baa-lambs, gathered to the fold. So that's the way that Bendy ran his mission in the slum, And preached the Holy Gospel to the fightin' men of Brum, "The Lord," said he, "has given me His message from on high, And if you interrupt Him, I will know the reason why." ”

“ Never strain Weary brain, Hardly fit, Wait a bit! After rest Comes the best. Sitting still, Let it fill; Never press; Nerve stress Always shows. Nature knows. Critics kind, Never mind! Critics flatter, No matter! ”

“ Life is the drama here to-day
⁠And Death the villain of the plot.
It is a realistic play.
⁠Shall it end well or shall it not?
The hero? Oh, the hero's part
⁠Is vacant—to be played by you.
Then act it well! An orphan's heart
⁠May beat the lighter if you do. ”

“ Here we paused at Gretna Green,
Where many curious things were seen
At the grimy blacksmith's shop,
Where flying couples used to stop
And forge within the smithy door
The chain which lasts for evermore. ”

“ THE BANNER OF PROGRESS There's a banner in our van, And we follow as we can, For at times we scarce can see it, And at times it flutters high. But however it be flown, Still we know it as our own, And we follow, ever follow, Where we see the banner fly. ”

“ Until He drops the fungus spore
⁠That smears them out again.
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He stores the milk that feeds the babe,
⁠He dulls the tortured nerve;
He gives a hundred joys of sense
⁠Where few or none might serve. ”

“ I feel that I am keeping The sunlight from you; may your walk be bright! When you return I may perchance be sleeping, So, ere you go, one hand-clasp and good night!"
1902-1909 They recruited William Evans From the ploughtail and the spade; Ten years' service in the Devons Left him smart as they are made. Thirty or a trifle older, Rather over six foot high, Trim of waist and broad of shoulder, Yellow-haired and blue of eye; Short of speech and very solid, Fixed in purpose as a rock, Slow, deliberate, and stolid, Of the real West-country stock. ”

“ So from bloodshed and from sorrow,
⁠From the pains of yesterday,
Comes the nation of to-morrow
⁠Broadly based and built to stay.
Loyal spirits strong in union,
⁠Joined by kindred faith and blood ”

“ But never one that could compare
⁠With our own island mother-land.
The dream is o'er. No more we view
⁠The shores of Christian or of Turk,
But turning to our tasks anew,
⁠We bend us to our wonted work. ”

“ Up the winding mountain path
⁠See the long-drawn column go;
Himalayan aftermath
⁠Lying rosy on the snow.
Motley ministers of wrath
⁠Building better than they know,
In the rosy aftermath
⁠Trailing upward to the snow. ”

“ Alas, that men and crops and herds Should ever yield their place to birds! And that the splendid Highland race Be swept aside to give more space For forests where the deer may stray For some rich owner far away, Whose keeper guards the lonely glen Which once sent out a hundred men! When from Inverness we turned, Feeling that a rest was earned. We stopped at Nairn, for golf links famed, "Scotland's Brighton" it is named, Though really, when the phrase we heard, It seemed a little bit absurd, For Brighton's size compared to Nairn Is just a mother to her bairn. ”

“ She cried, 'But you must bide here!
⁠You shall no further roam.
Grow stronger by our side here,
⁠Within our moorland home!'
She laid her best before him,
⁠Homely and simple fare,
And to his couch she bore him
⁠The raiment he should wear. ”

“ Through a country all alive
With memories of 'forty-five.'
The noble clans once gathered here,
Where now are only grouse and deer.
Alas, that men and crops and herds
Should ever yield their place to birds! ”