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[Page 108]

Wounded Camp
Wareham
Dorset

9th Mar 1917
Dear Mother/.

I awoke this morning to find the world wrapped in the hush and the whiteness of snow.
While men slept the gently flakes had commenced to fall and they were falling as we fell in for parade.
A snow fall is a beautiful sight to see.
That more than silence and greater than peace, hush and awe of it is one of the rarest and finest poems of nature.
The soft flakes come like silent messages of peace.
As tokens of an unseen presence which seems to be spirit of the great all persuading whiteness

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