sporting poetry

Nancy Kleck photo The fox crossed here, a car followerPoints as the foxhound pack roils roadside,Takes the scent up onto the asphalt, Loses the line, circles back to churn againWhile one tri-color, by herself, crosses over, Scrambles up the stone wall, squeezes Through the boards on top, runs nose-downSerpentines until she finds, gives tongue On the fox’s line. The pack comes to her,Oh yes, hot fox, they bay, go screaming off as one. That’s the bitch I want to be. Wendell Hawken earned her MFA in Poetry at Warren Wilson College in Swannannoa, NC. Collections of her poems include, The Luck of Being, published by The Backwaters Press, Omaha, in 2008 and The Spinal Sequence by Finishing Line Press, Georgetown, Kentucky in 2013. Individual poems have appeared in literary magazines including Narrative, Shenandoah, Southern Poetry Review, and Poet Lore.... This content is for subscribers only.Join NowAlready a member? Log in here

George Whyte-Melville (1821 - 1878)I’ve already confessed to you that George Whyte-Melville and William Henry Ogilvie are my favorite sporting poets. In their works are stitched the insistent rhythms of the galloping horse crossing open country. What follows is an ode to Whyte-Melville written by Ogilvie himself.

In this tribute appear numerous lines, phrases and references cleverly taken from many of Whyte-Melville’s poems. Whoever can extract the greatest number of Whyte-Melville lines and phrases in this poem and identify the Whyte-Melville poems from which they are taken will be named Foxhunting Life’s Most Literate Foxhunter of 2012! To submit your entry, click here.

Whyte-Melville by William Henry Ogilvie

With lightest of hands on the bridle, with lightest of hearts in the dance,
To the gods of Adventure and Laughter he quaffed the red wine of Romance,
Then wistfully turning the goblet he spilled the last drops at our feet,
And left us his tales to remember and left us his songs to repeat.