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 gayly in the wind.