TCDE-Team at 23:00, 4 April 2026

2026-04-04T23:00:13Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 01:00, 5 April 2026
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	''Fate'' is a poem written by [[Arthur Conan Doyle]] first published in [[The Guards Came Through and Other Poems]] on 16 december 1919.		''Fate'' is a poem written by [[Arthur Conan Doyle]] first published in [[The Guards Came Through and Other Poems]] on 16 december 1919.


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	== Fate ==		== Fate ==

	I know not how I know,~~<br />~~		<poem>
	And yet I know.~~<br />~~		I know not how I know,
	I do not plan to go,~~<br />~~		And yet I know.
	And yet I go.~~<br />~~		I do not plan to go,
	There is some dim force propelling,~~<br />~~		And yet I go.
	Gently guiding and compelling,~~<br />~~		There is some dim force propelling,
	And a faint voice ever telling~~<br />~~		Gently guiding and compelling,
			And a faint voice ever telling
	"This is so."		"This is so."

			The path is rough and black—
	The path is rough and black—~~<br />~~		Dark as night—
	Dark as night—~~<br />~~		And there lies a fairer track
	And there lies a fairer track~~<br />~~		In the light.
	In the light.~~<br />~~		Yet I may not shirk or shrink,
	Yet I may not shirk or shrink,~~<br />~~		For I feel the hands that link
	For I feel the hands that link~~<br />~~		As they guide me on the brink
	As they guide me on the brink~~<br />~~
	Of the Height.		Of the Height.

			Bigots blame me in their wrath.
	Bigots blame me in their wrath.~~<br />~~		Let them blame!
	Let them blame!~~<br />~~		Praise or blame, the fated path
	Praise or blame, the fated path~~<br />~~		Is the same.
	Is the same.~~<br />~~		If I droop upon my mission,
	If I droop upon my mission,~~<br />~~		There is still that saving vision,
	There is still that saving vision,~~<br />~~		Iridescent and Elysian,
	Iridescent and Elysian,~~<br />~~
	Tipped in flame.		Tipped in flame.

			It was granted me to stand
	It was granted me to stand~~<br />~~		By my dead.
	By my dead.~~<br />~~		I have felt the vanished hand
	I have felt the vanished hand~~<br />~~		On my head,
	On my head,~~<br />~~		On my brow the vanished lips,
	On my brow the vanished lips,~~<br />~~		And I know that Death's eclipse
	And I know that Death's eclipse~~<br />~~		Is a floating veil that slips,
	Is a floating veil that slips,~~<br />~~
	Or is shed.		Or is shed.

			When I heard thy well-known voice,
	When I heard thy well-known voice,~~<br />~~		Son of mine,
	Son of mine,~~<br />~~		Should I silently rejoice,
	Should I silently rejoice,~~<br />~~		Or incline
	Or incline~~<br />~~		To strike harder as a fighter,
	To strike harder as a fighter,~~<br />~~		That the heavy might be lighter,
	That the heavy might be lighter,~~<br />~~		And the gloomy might be brighter
	And the gloomy might be brighter~~<br />~~
	At the sign?		At the sign?

			Great Guide, I ask you still,
	Great Guide, I ask you still,~~<br />~~		"Wherefore I?"
	"Wherefore I?"~~<br />~~		But if it be thy will
	But if it be thy will~~<br />~~		That I try,
	That I try,~~<br />~~		Trace my pathway among men,
	Trace my pathway among men,~~<br />~~		Show me how to strike, and when,
	Show me how to strike, and when,~~<br />~~		Take me to the fight—and then,
	Take me to the fight—and then,~~<br />~~
	Oh, be nigh!		Oh, be nigh!
			</poem>

TCDE-Team at 22:15, 27 March 2025

2025-03-27T22:15:26Z

New page

''Fate'' is a poem written by [[Arthur Conan Doyle]] first published in [[The Guards Came Through and Other Poems]] on 16 december 1919.

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== Editions ==

* in ''[[The Guards Came Through and Other Poems]]'' (16 december 1919, [[John Murray]] [UK])
* in ''[[The Guards Came Through and Other Poems]]'' (1920, [[George H. Doran Co.]] [US])
* in ''One Thousand Beautiful Things — Chosen from the Life and Literature of the World'', by Arthur Mee (1925, [[Hodder & Stoughton Ltd.]] [UK]) as ''A Prayer for the Fight''

== Fate ==

I know not how I know, 
And yet I know. 
I do not plan to go, 
And yet I go. 
There is some dim force propelling, 
Gently guiding and compelling, 
And a faint voice ever telling 
"This is so."

The path is rough and black— 
Dark as night— 
And there lies a fairer track 
In the light. 
Yet I may not shirk or shrink, 
For I feel the hands that link 
As they guide me on the brink 
Of the Height.

Bigots blame me in their wrath. 
Let them blame! 
Praise or blame, the fated path 
Is the same. 
If I droop upon my mission, 
There is still that saving vision, 
Iridescent and Elysian, 
Tipped in flame.

It was granted me to stand 
By my dead. 
I have felt the vanished hand 
On my head, 
On my brow the vanished lips, 
And I know that Death's eclipse 
Is a floating veil that slips, 
Or is shed.

When I heard thy well-known voice, 
Son of mine, 
Should I silently rejoice, 
Or incline 
To strike harder as a fighter, 
That the heavy might be lighter, 
And the gloomy might be brighter 
At the sign?

Great Guide, I ask you still, 
"Wherefore I?" 
But if it be thy will 
That I try, 
Trace my pathway among men, 
Show me how to strike, and when, 
Take me to the fight—and then, 
Oh, be nigh!

----
* [[Sir Arthur Conan Doyle:Complete Works|Back to Complete Works]]
* [[Sir Arthur Conan Doyle|Back to Conan Doyle]]

Fate - Revision history

TCDE-Team at 23:00, 4 April 2026

TCDE-Team at 22:15, 27 March 2025