Cavalry Crossing A Ford - Poem by Walt Whitman
A LINE in long array, where they wind betwixt green islands;
They take a serpentine course--their arms flash in the sun--Hark to
the musical clank;
Behold the silvery river--in it the splashing horses, loitering, stop
Behold the brown-faced men--each group, each person, a picture--the
negligent rest on the saddles;
Some emerge on the opposite bank--others are just entering the ford--
Scarlet, and blue, and snowy white,
The guidon flags flutter gaily in the wind.
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