A poem by
Walt Whitman, from
Leaves of Grass=====-----
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.