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AT WOOLWICH

31

of this sombre spot, one thinks one hears

the low, deep, far-off, booming of the great guns across the sea?

For centuries the spirit of mankind has knelt at the feet of its great creators, its Miltons and its Dantes, in awe of their awful imaginings. But what are the highest reaches of the imaginative mind compared with the realities of that mightiest of all tragic poets—War?

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