Yesterday I was looking for a quote about obsession to use for a new poem. I ran across this:
“From the first day I met her, she was the only woman to me. Every day of that voyage I loved her more, and many a time since have I kneeled down in the darkness of the night watch and kissed the deck of that ship because I knew her dear feet had trod it. She was never engaged to me. She treated me as fairly as ever a woman treated a man. I have no complaint to make. It was all love on my side, and all good comradeship and friendship on hers. When we parted she was a free woman, but I could never again be a free man.”
~Arthur Conan Doyle, The Return of Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock Holmes, #6)
There is an aura of poetics in the excerpt, and it caused me to wonder if Doyle wrote poetry. In fact he did!
His three volumes of poetry are: Songs of the Road, Songs of Action and The Guards Came Through and Other Poems.
THE SONG OF THE BOW
by Arthur Conan Doyle, 1892
What of the bow?
The bow was made in England:
Of true wood, of yew-wood,
The wood of English bows;
So men who are free
Love the old yew-tree
And the land where the yew-tree grows.
What of the cord?
The cord was made in England:
A rough cord, a tough cord,
A cord that bowmen love;
And so we will sing
Of the hempen string
And the land where the cord was wove.
What of the shaft?
The shaft was cut in England:
A long shaft, a strong shaft,
Barbed and trim and true;
So we’ll drink all together
To the grey goose-feather
And the land where the grey goose flew.
What of the mark?
Ah, seek it not in England:
A bold mark, our old mark
Is waiting over-sea.
When the strings harp in chorus,
And the lion flag is o'er us,
It is there that our mark will be.
What of the men?
The men were bred in England:
The bowmen — the yeomen,
The lads of dale and fell.
Here’s to you — and to you!
To the hearts that are true
And the land where the true hearts dwell.
*****
(In an interesting aside, I find it curious that some researchers theorize Doyle was Jack the Ripper.)