 | Leaves of grass (1872) |  |
276
An Army Corps on the March.
With its cloud of skirmishers in advance,With now the sound of a single shot, snapping like a whip, and now an irregular volley,
The swarming ranks press on and on, the dense brigades press on;
Glittering dimly, toiling under the sun—the dust-cover'd men,
In columns rise and fall to the undulations of the ground,
With artillery interspers'd—the wheels rumble, the horses sweat,
As the army corps advances.
| Leaves of grass (1872) | |