It is true that the rivers went nosing like swine, <br />Tugging at banks, until they seemed <br />Bland belly-sounds in somnolent troughs, <br /> <br />That the air was heavy with the breath of these swine, <br />The breath of turgid summer, and <br />Heavy with thunder's rattapallax, <br /> <br />That the man who erected this cabin, planted <br />This field, and tended it awhile, <br />Knew not the quirks of imagery, <br /> <br />That the hours of his indolent, arid days, <br />Grotesque with this nosing in banks, <br />This somnolence and rattapallax, <br /> <br />Seemed to suckle themselves on his arid being, <br />As the swine-like rivers suckled themselves <br />While they went seaward to the sea-mouths.<br /><br />Wallace Stevens<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/frogs-eat-butterflies-snakes-eat-frogs-hogs-eat-snakes-men-eat-hogs/
