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FHL features poems by the old masters every now and again. This one will raise the hair on the back of your neck!

There are many splendid moments ‘twixt the cradle and the grave
When a man may reach to rapture, but the one that I would crave
Is the moment when a whimper in a crash of music merges
And four hundred hooves are beating like the thunder of the surges
And the pack comes out of covert like the curving of a wave.

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