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.

Added: Feb 20 2003 | Viewed: 880 times | Comments (0)

Poet: Robert William Service
Poem: Les Grands Mutiles
Volume: Ballads of a Bohemian (Book 4)
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