St Moritz

Our Poem

ST MORITZ
In the Engadine Valley is created a dream,
On the St. Moritz lake, a racetrack supreme.
To all who love racing, each day we hold dear,
But with snow covered mountains a special magic is here.

Where snow flakes fell all of last night
The sun shines on a track glistening white.
Muffled hooves, making little sound,
Just thudding beat on frozen ground.
The air now filled with a powdery spray,
As they take the turn led by the bay.
But the head of the grey is nodding with ease,
His rider poised with a chance to sieze.
A gap by the rail to make their run,
Skill and power that will be second to none.

From the snow-capped mountains to the stands below,
An echoing roar is starting to grow.
As the crowd sees the silks of red, blue and green,
Black, gold and yellow of shimmering sheen.
Each jockey crouched low over dampened hair
Nostrils flared to the crisp pure air.

The grey makes his challenge and neck and neck
With no restraining hands to hold them check.
He surges away, he plays his part,
In a day to remember locked deep in our heart.



Verse by Mary Lascelles

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