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Å𿪠Çʻ纻(manuscript) °Å·¡¾÷ÀÚ Roy Davids´Â, º¸¾îÀüÀï(Boer War)¿¡ ÂüÀüÇÑ ÀþÀº À©½ºÅÏ Ã³¾îÄ¥ÀÌ ´ë¿µÁ¦±¹¿¡ ÇåÁ¤Å°À§ÇØ 1899³â °æ ¾´ 10¿¬Â¥¸® ½Ã 'Our Modern Watchwords'À» ¹ß±¼Çß´Ù.
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Our Modern Watchwords
I The shadow falls along the shore The search lights twinkle on the sea The silence of a mighty fleet Portends the tumult yet to be. The tables of the evening meal Are spread amid the great machines And thus with pride the question runs Among the sailors and marines Breathes there the man who fears to die For England, Home, & Wai-hai-wai.
II The Admiral slowly paced the bridge His mind intent on famous deed Yet ere the battle joined he thought Of words that help mankind in need Words that might make sailors think Of Hopes beyond all earthly laws And add to hard and heavy toil the glamour of a victim(?) cause
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´º¿äÄ¿ ½ÃºÎ¹® ÆíÁýÀÎÀÌÀÚ ÇÁ¸°½ºÅÏ´ëÇÐ Àι®Çб³¼öÀÎ(New Yorker Poetry Editor and Princeton University humanities professor) Paul MuldoonÀº, "¾µµ¥¾øÀÌ ³Ê¹« ¸¹Àº ´Ü¾î¸¦ »ç¿ëÇÏ´Â µî, ±äÀå°¨ÀÌ ³ôÁö ¾Ê´Ù.(Æò¹üÇÏ´Ù)" ¸é¼µµ, ¸Å¿ì ÀþÀº ½ÃÀý ¾²¿©Áø °ÍÀ̸ç, ó¾îÄ¥Àº »ê¹®ÀÛ°¡ÀÓÀ» °í·ÁÇØ¾ß ÇÑ´Ù°í µ¡ºÙ¿´´Ù.
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