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Colors of Life: Poems and Songs and Sonnets by Max Eastman
TODAY I saw a face--it was a beak,
That peered, with pale round yellow vapid eyes,
Above the ****** muck that had been lips
And teeth and chin. A plodding doctor poured
Some water through a rubber down a hole
He made in that black bag of ***** blood.
The beak revived, it smiled--as chickens smile.
The doctor hopes he'll find the man a tongue
To tell with, what he used to be.
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