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