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Poem by Wilfred Wilson Gibson


AS I was marching in Flanders 
A ghost kept step with me  
Kept step with me and chuckled 
And muttered ceaselessly:
Once I too marched in Flanders, 
The very spit of you, 
And just a hundred years since, 
To fall at Waterloo. 

They buried me in Flanders 
Upon the field of blood, 
And long Ive lain forgotten 
Deep in the Flemmish mud. 

But now you march in Flanders, 
The very spit of me; 
To the ending of the days march 
Ill bear you company. 

Wilfred Wilson Gibson

Wilfred Wilson Gibson's other poems:
  1. The Parrots
  2. The Unknown Knight
  3. Retreat
  4. The Knight of the Wood
  5. Breakfast

Poems of the other poets with the same name:

  • Helen Cone Comrades ("Oh, whither, whither, rider toward the west?")
  • Madison Cawein Comrades ("Down through the woods, along the way")
  • Ella Wilcox Comrades ("I and my Soul are alone to-day")

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