TCDE-Team at 20:40, 4 April 2026

2026-04-04T20:40:59Z

← Older revision		Revision as of 22:40, 4 April 2026
Line 1:		Line 1:
	''The Old Huntsman'' is a poem written by [[Arthur Conan Doyle]] first published in [[The Speaker\|The Speaker: The Liberal Review]] on 5 march 1898, and first collected in [[Songs of Action]] on 8 june 1898.		''The Old Huntsman'' is a poem written by [[Arthur Conan Doyle]] first published in [[The Speaker\|The Speaker: The Liberal Review]] on 5 march 1898, and first collected in [[Songs of Action]] on 8 june 1898.


	__TOC__		__TOC__
Line 19:		Line 18:
	[[File:the-speaker-1898-03-05-p398-the-old-huntsman.jpg\|thumb\|250px\|right\|[[The Speaker]] (5 march 1898, p. 398)]]		[[File:the-speaker-1898-03-05-p398-the-old-huntsman.jpg\|thumb\|250px\|right\|[[The Speaker]] (5 march 1898, p. 398)]]

	There's a keen and grim old huntsman~~<br />~~		<poem>
	On a horse as white as snow;~~<br />~~		There's a keen and grim old huntsman
	Sometimes he is very swift~~<br />~~		On a horse as white as snow;
	And sometimes he is slow.~~<br />~~		Sometimes he is very swift
	But he never is at fault,~~<br />~~		And sometimes he is slow.
	For he always hunts at view~~<br />~~		But he never is at fault,
	And he rides without a halt~~<br />~~		For he always hunts at view
			And he rides without a halt
	After you.		After you.

	The huntsman's name is Death,~~<br />~~		The huntsman's name is Death,
	His horse's name is Time;~~<br />~~		His horse's name is Time;
	He is coming, he is coming~~<br />~~		He is coming, he is coming
	As I sit and write this rhyme;~~<br />~~		As I sit and write this rhyme;
	He is coming, he is coming,~~<br />~~		He is coming, he is coming,
	As you read the rhyme I write;~~<br />~~		As you read the rhyme I write;
	You can hear the hoofs' low drumming~~<br />~~		You can hear the hoofs' low drumming
	Day and night.		Day and night.

	You can hear the distant drumming~~<br />~~		You can hear the distant drumming
	As the clock goes tick-a-tack,~~<br />~~		As the clock goes tick-a-tack,
	And the chiming of the hours~~<br />~~		And the chiming of the hours
	Is the music of his pack.~~<br />~~		Is the music of his pack.
	You may hardly note their growling~~<br />~~		You may hardly note their growling
	Underneath the noonday sun,~~<br />~~		Underneath the noonday sun,
	But at night you hear them howling~~<br />~~		But at night you hear them howling
	As they run.		As they run.

	And they never check or falter~~<br />~~		And they never check or falter
	For they never miss their kill;~~<br />~~		For they never miss their kill;
	Seasons change and systems alter,~~<br />~~		Seasons change and systems alter,
	But the hunt is running still.~~<br />~~		But the hunt is running still.
	Hark! the evening chime is playing,~~<br />~~		Hark! the evening chime is playing,
	O'er the long grey town it peals;~~<br />~~		O'er the long grey town it peals;
	Don't you hear the death-hound baying~~<br />~~		Don't you hear the death-hound baying
	At your heels?		At your heels?

	Where is there an earth or burrow?~~<br />~~		Where is there an earth or burrow?
	Where a cover left for you?~~<br />~~		Where a cover left for you?
	A year, a week, perhaps to-morrow~~<br />~~		A year, a week, perhaps to-morrow
	Brings the Huntsman's death halloo!~~<br />~~		Brings the Huntsman's death halloo!
	Day by day he gains upon us,~~<br />~~		Day by day he gains upon us,
	And the most that we can claim~~<br />~~		And the most that we can claim
	Is that when the hounds are on us~~<br />~~		Is that when the hounds are on us
	We die game.		We die game.

	And somewhere dwells the Master,~~<br />~~		And somewhere dwells the Master,
	By whom it was decreed;~~<br />~~		By whom it was decreed;
	He sent the savage huntsman,~~<br />~~		He sent the savage huntsman,
	He bred the snow-white steed.~~<br />~~		He bred the snow-white steed.
	These hounds which run for ever,~~<br />~~		These hounds which run for ever,
	He set them on your track;~~<br />~~		He set them on your track;
	He hears you scream, but never~~<br />~~		He hears you scream, but never
	Calls them back.		Calls them back.

	He does not heed our suing,~~<br />~~		He does not heed our suing,
	We never see his face;~~<br />~~		We never see his face;
	He hunts to our undoing,~~<br />~~		He hunts to our undoing,
	We thank him for the chase.~~<br />~~		We thank him for the chase.
	We thank him and we flatter,~~<br />~~		We thank him and we flatter,
	We hope — because we must—~~<br />~~		We hope — because we must—
	But have we cause? No matter!~~<br />~~		But have we cause? No matter!
	Let us trust!		Let us trust!
			</poem>

TCDE-Team at 18:15, 1 July 2022

2022-07-01T18:15:42Z

New page

''The Old Huntsman'' is a poem written by [[Arthur Conan Doyle]] first published in [[The Speaker|The Speaker: The Liberal Review]] on 5 march 1898, and first collected in [[Songs of Action]] on 8 june 1898.

__TOC__

== Editions ==

* in ''[[The Speaker]]'' (5 march 1898 [UK])
* in ''[[The Sun (New York)]]'' (27 march 1898 [US])
* in ''[[Songs of Action]]'' (1898-1916, [[Smith, Elder & Co.]] [UK])
* in ''[[Songs of Action]]'' (august 1898, [[Charles Scribner's Sons]] [US])
* in ''[[Songs of Action]]'' (september 1898, [[Doubleday & McClure Co.|Doubleday, Page & Co.]] [US])
* in ''[[Songs of Action]]'' (1918-1920, [[John Murray]] [UK])
* in ''[[The Poems of Arthur Conan Doyle]]'' (1922-1928, [[John Murray]] [UK])

== The Old Huntsman ==
[[File:the-speaker-1898-03-05-p398-the-old-huntsman.jpg|thumb|250px|right|[[The Speaker]] (5 march 1898, p. 398)]]

There's a keen and grim old huntsman 
On a horse as white as snow; 
Sometimes he is very swift 
And sometimes he is slow. 
But he never is at fault, 
For he always hunts at view 
And he rides without a halt 
After you.

The huntsman's name is Death, 
His horse's name is Time; 
He is coming, he is coming 
As I sit and write this rhyme; 
He is coming, he is coming, 
As you read the rhyme I write; 
You can hear the hoofs' low drumming 
Day and night.

You can hear the distant drumming 
As the clock goes tick-a-tack, 
And the chiming of the hours 
Is the music of his pack. 
You may hardly note their growling 
Underneath the noonday sun, 
But at night you hear them howling 
As they run.

And they never check or falter 
For they never miss their kill; 
Seasons change and systems alter, 
But the hunt is running still. 
Hark! the evening chime is playing, 
O'er the long grey town it peals; 
Don't you hear the death-hound baying 
At your heels?

Where is there an earth or burrow? 
Where a cover left for you? 
A year, a week, perhaps to-morrow 
Brings the Huntsman's death halloo! 
Day by day he gains upon us, 
And the most that we can claim 
Is that when the hounds are on us 
We die game.

And somewhere dwells the Master, 
By whom it was decreed; 
He sent the savage huntsman, 
He bred the snow-white steed. 
These hounds which run for ever, 
He set them on your track; 
He hears you scream, but never 
Calls them back.

He does not heed our suing, 
We never see his face; 
He hunts to our undoing, 
We thank him for the chase. 
We thank him and we flatter, 
We hope — because we must— 
But have we cause? No matter! 
Let us trust!

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

The Old Huntsman - Revision history

TCDE-Team at 20:40, 4 April 2026

TCDE-Team at 18:15, 1 July 2022