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Wilfrid Wilson
Gibson

- The Dancers
- A Lament
- The Question

 

The Dancers

All day beneath the hurtling shells
Before my burning eyes
Hover the dainty demoiselles--
The peacock dragonflies.

Unceasingly they dart and glance
Above the stagnant stream--
And I am fighting here in France
As in a senseless dream.

A dream of shattering black shells
That hurtle overhead,
And dainty dancing demoiselles--
Above the dreamless dead.

- Wilfrid Wilson Gibson


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