Like a rocket shot to a ship ashore
Bunny after the chipmunk tore
Like a ripple of wind running swift on grass;
Like a shadow on green a cloud blows past,
Like a kestrel chasing,
Like a sickle reaping,
Like all things swooping,
Like all things sweeping,
Like a venomous snake with poisoned teeth,
Determined to flush the creature beneath.
Then dinner calls this hound away
And the chipmunk rests in peace another day.
after John Masefield's The Fox Hunt
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