Onward The Hunt Poem by Jean Mallette

Hie to the stables; the foxhunt's begun;
Mount now the horses; release now the prey;
Ride now the field where the quarry must run-
Run 'til he's fallen-a bundle of gray.

Quiet the horsehuffs and quiet the hounds;
Silence the laughter that quickens the wind;
Hear then the pulse 'neath his bosom that pounds-
Pounding the breath of his life to the end.

Notice the glistening sheen of his coat,
Sleek in the sunlight, so sleek with his sweat;
Notice the terror that clenches his throat,
Throbbing and robbing his life 'til defeat.

Hear then the course of his feet through the grass,
Falling so lightly, so swiftly from death;
Hear as he struggles, then pauses, alas,
Pauses in weakness and wanting of breath.

Louder the huffbeats and louder the hounds,
Threshing the hillside in thunderous roars,
All for the purpose to trap and confound,
Weaken and humble a creature through force.

All for the purpose of custom and sport,
Traditional form of traditional game;
All for the purpose of social rapport-
Slaughter the prey and win social acclaim.

Hie to the stables; the foxhunt's begun;
Mount now the horses; release now the prey;
Ride now the field where the quarry must run-
Run 'til he's fallen-a bundle of gray.