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Leaves of Grass (1871-72)
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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,
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The swarming ranks press on and on, the dense brigades
press on;
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Glittering dimly, toiling under the sun—the dust-cover'd
men,
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In columns rise and fall to the undulations of the
ground,
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With artillery interspers'd—the wheels rumble, the
horses sweat,
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As the army corps advances. |
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