A March In The Ranks, Hard-prest by Walt Whitman

left
left
left right-or-wrong left
don’t worry about the muffled
step down the decline
we’ve lost enough sense
not to worry about divine

lime-lighting the way
celebrate tomorr
what’s lost today

a church a crossing
impromptu hospitality
yay for us
hooray for me

i don’t mean to be black
what a pity
here we go again
a different city

I wipe the sweat from my eyes
I can see momentarily
looks like death in the
form of soldiers mounted
one upon the next
plank or stretched
an occasional scream
I wonder how that will look
on his resume?

A dream a dream a chance
keep on walking
i’ll take up the rear
while you make your advance