Les Grands Mutiles Poem by Robert William Service
Les Grands Mutiles
I saw three wounded of the war:
And the first had lost his eyes;
And the second went on wheels and had
No legs below the thighs;
And the face of the third was featureless,
And his mouth ran cornerwise.
So I made a rhyme about each one,
And this is how my fancies run.
Monday, January 13, 2003
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5/8/2024 2:48:30 AM # 1.0.0.1119
