Life, 1914-12-03 · page 44 of 92
Life — December 3, 1914 — page 44: what you’re looking at
What you’re looking at
This is a serious wartime poem, not satire or humor. Published in *Life* magazine by John Kendrick Bangs, it's a Christmas plea addressing Santa Claus as a symbolic figure of compassion during what appears to be **World War I**. The poem asks Santa to bring comfort to war's victims: devastated homesteads, grieving families, orphaned children, and traumatized soldiers. Specific imagery—"dark ensanguined scene," "shambles red," "blackened hearth-stones"—depicts the war's destruction of civilian life and "Man's Brotherhood." Rather than typical holiday cheer, the poem requests Santa deliver "Hope," "pity," "rest," and "peace," culminating in a call for universal "Love and Brotherhood" to heal the earth. This represents how American magazines used Christmas rhetoric as moral commentary on the war's humanitarian costs, appealing to sentiment and shared values rather than political argument.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
A Plea to Santa Claus By John Kendrick Bangs H, Santa Claus, dear Santa Claus! Upon thy way a moment pause, And view the need of them that lie Prostrate beneath the iron heel Of warriors grim, whose potency Rests not on Love, but warring steel. Look o'er the dark ensanguined scene Where happy homesteads once have been, But whither now the carrion bird Hath winged her way for human food To find in shambles red interred The wreckage of Man's Brother- hood. Up from the blackened hearth-stones where Sit spectres of a grim despair, Raise gifts of Hope of days to be, When out of ruin vast, and pain Some measure of felicity Shall come to cheer the soul again. Within the hearts of them that stand With tear-drained eyes and palsied hand, In token of some murdered love, Some gift of pity and release Place thou from out thy treasure- trove Of sympathy, and rest, and peace. For all the little’ ones that weep Where once they sang, dear Saint, oh keep Thy heart wide open as of yore, And 'mid the din of war’s alarms Bid them to weep and fear no more As in a loving Father's arms. And in the breasts of all mankind May the glad dawn of Christmas find A gift from thee of such Good- Will, So vast, so pure, of such true worth, That Love and Brotherhood shall fill 4 To overflowing all the earth! x comicbooks.com