New Forest Round Up

Our Poem

So wild and free, foal by your side
Then the roundup came, no place to hide,
You galloped so fast, then with faltering stride,
Your breath came in gasps, you no longer tried,
Then a horseman drew close, his voice loudly cried,
You called to your foal, your head tossed, eyes wide.
You looked across heather that Autumn winds dried
Then back to your foal in a pen as he shied.
You remembered last year as sweat ran down you side,
Although freedom was yours, part of you died.


Verse by Mary Lascelles