Beauty drawn from the murder of millions, and I cannot handle this beauty, I cannot handle this beauty.
-The Voice before the Void
Wilfrid Wilson Gibson
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.