I swam the Huron of love， and am not ashamed，

It was many saw me do it， scoffing^{1， scoffing，}

They said it was foolish， winter and all，

But I dove in， greaselike， and swam，

And came up where Erie verges^2.

I would say for the expenditure^{3 of love，}

And the atrophy^{4 of longing5， there is no cure}

So swift， so sleek^{6， so fine， so draining}

As a swim through the Huron in the wintertime.