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.
Les Grands Mutiles
Robert William Service
(1)
Poem topics: lost, war, face, mouth, rhyme, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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