Langue   

The Dancers

Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
Langue: anglais




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

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.



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