Twain, Mark (1835-1910)


Mark Twain, alias Samuel Langhorne Clemens.


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    [The War-Prayer]

    notice :
    Image (fixe ; à 2 dimensions)
    The War-Prayer] / Maurits Cornelis Escher. — [S.l.] : [s.n.], . — 1 affiche (impr. photoméc.), coul. (deux  : noir , violet ) ; 48 × 63 cm.

    • Affiches par pays  : États-Unis
    • Lieux d’archivages  : CIRA (Lausanne)
    • Liste des thèmes  : guerre (généralités)  ; religion et spiritualité (en général)
    • Géographie, géopolitique et Histoire  :
    • Noms cités (± liste positive)  : Twain, Mark (1835-1910)
    • Presse citée  :
    • Vie des mouvements  :
    notes :
    descriptif :

    [ texte (prière en caractères gothique/vieil anglais) ; dessin de fond (prêtres macabres/ momies de prêtres « Ite, missa est. ») d’Escher (cartouche : 6 -’32, MCE) ]

    texte :

    The War-Prayer

    O Lord, our Father, our young patriots, idols of hearts our hearts, go forth to battle — he Thou near them !

    With them — in spirit — me also go forth from the sweet peace of our beloved firesides to smite the foe.

    O Lord, our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells ;

    Help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead ;

    Help us to drown the thunder of the guns with the shrieks of their wounded, writing in pain ;

    Help us to lag waste their humble homes with a hurricane of fire ;

    Help us to wring the hearts of their unoffending widows with unavailing grief ;

    Help us to turn them out roaf less with their little children to wander unfriended the wastes of their desolated land in rags and hunger and thirst, sport of the sun-flames of summer and the icy winds of winter, broken in spirit, worn with travail, imploring Thee for the refuge of the grave and denied it - for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord,

    Blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their may with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet !

    We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the source of love, and Who is the ever-faithfull refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts.


    Transcribed by Mark Twain

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