Cavalry Crossing A Ford
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 gayly in the wind.
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