- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
[begin page 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.