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Tag Archives: wilfrid wilson gibson
Wilfrid Wilson Gibson, "Between the Lines"
Between the Lines When consciousness came back, he found he layBetween the opposing fires, but could not tellOn which hand were his friends; and either wayFor him to turn was chancy–bullet and shellWhistling and shrieking over him, as the glareOf … Continue reading
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Wilfrid Wilson Gibson, "Retreat"
Retreat Broken, bewildered by the long retreat Across the stifling leagues of southern plain, Across the scorching leagues of trampled grain, Half-stunned, half-blinded, by the trudge of feet And dusty smother of the AugustHe dreamt of flowers in an English … Continue reading
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Wilfred Wilson Gibson, "Breakfast"
Breakfast We ate our breakfast lying on our backs, Because the shells were screeching overhead. I bet a rasher to a loaf of bread That Hull United would beat Halifax When Jimmy Strainthorpe played full-back instead Of Billy Bradford. Ginger … Continue reading
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Wilfrid Wilson Gibson, "The Joke"
The Joke He’d even have his joke While we were sitting tight, And so he needs must poke His silly head in sight To whisper some new jestChortling. But as he spoke A rifle cracked– And now God knows when … Continue reading
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Wilfrid Wilson Gibson, "Hill-born"
Hill-born I sometimes wonder if it’s really true I ever knew Another life Than this unending strife With unseen enemies in lowland mud;And wonder if my blood Thrilled ever to the tune Of clean winds blowing through an April noon … Continue reading
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Wilfrid Wilson Gibson, ‘The Going"
The Going He’s gone. I do not understand. I only know That as he turned to go And waved his hand, In his young eyes a sudden glory shone: And I was dazzled by a sunset glow, And he was … Continue reading
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Wilfrid Wilson Gibson, "In the Ambulance"
In the Ambulance “Two rows of cabbages, Two of curly-greens, Two rows of early peas, Two of kidney-beans.” That’s what he is muttering Making such a song, Keeping other chaps awake, The whole night long. Both his legs are shot … Continue reading
Wilfred Wilson Gibson, "Back"
Back They ask me where I’ve been,And what I’ve done and seen.But what can I replyWho know it wasn’t I,But someone just like me,Who went across the seaAnd with my head and handsKilled men in foreign lands…Though I must bear … Continue reading
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Wilfrid Wilson Gibson, "The Messages"
The Messages “I cannot quite remember…. There were five Dropt dead beside me in the trench–and three Whispered their dying messages to me….” Back from the trenches, more dead than alive, Stone-deaf and dazed, and with a broken knee, He … Continue reading
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Wilfrid Wilson Gibson, "Hit"
Hit Out of the sparkling sea I drew my tingling body clear, and lay On a low ledge the livelong summer day, Basking, and watching lazily White sails in Falmouth Bay. My body seemed to burn Salt in the sun … Continue reading
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