The first eight lines go this way:
Here dwell together still two men of note
Who never lived and so can never die:
How very near they seem, yet how remote
That age before the world went all awry.
But still the game’s afoot for those with ears
Attuned to catch the distant view-halloo:
England is England yet, for all our fears–
Only those things the heart believes are true.
There is much to like there, but for my taste the first two lines seem very strained, as if the author were reaching too far for a rhyme.
I prefer the end of the same author's classic essay "The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes," later incorporated into the book of the same name, which conveys much the same mood as the poem. Here's the final paragraph:
But there can be no grave for Sherlock Holmes or Doctor Watson . . . Shall they not always live in Baker Street? Are they not there as one writes? . . . Outside the hansoms rattle through the rain, and Moriarty plans his latest deviltry. Within, the sea coal flames upon the hearth and Holmes and Watson take their well-won ease . . . So they still live for all that love them well: in a romantic chamber of the heart, in a nostalgic country of the mind, where it is always 1895.
The phrase "it is always 1895" is a familiar one for Sherlockians, but even some who recognize Vincent Starrett as its originator may have forgotten that he used it twice.
What is your favorite poem or poetic writing about Sherlock Holmes?