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 gaily in the wind