THE GLASS HOUSE
THE GLASS HOUSE A steel wing chars; boche scour the rout Two lads pour blood and plunge in hay. Dawn sprays its light; Paul stirs for toil He prods an arm; moans rend his shed The crew pleads aid to save their fight. Paul springs a spy; she plucks his m ice and melts like rime so owls will starve. A... Sign in to see full entry.