BIG SWIMMING
Rain on the high prairies,
In dusk of autumnal hills;
Under the creaking saddle
My cheerless pony plods . . .
Down where the obscure water
Lapping the lithe willows
Sunders the chilling plain —
Rusty-hearted and travel-worn —
We set our bodies
To the November flood.
The farther shore is a cloud
Beyond midnight . . .
Big swimming.