Cavalry Crossing A Ford
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 to drink; 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--while, Scarlet, and blue, and snowy white, The guidon flags flutter gaily in the wind.
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"A line in long array, where they wind betwixt green islands;..."
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