DanFosing/public-domain-poetry huggingface dataset:
Broadway
by Lola Ridge

Light!
Innumerable ions of light,
Kindling, irradiating,
All to their foci tending...
Light that jingles like anklet chains
On bevies of little lithe twinkling feet,
Or clingles in myriad vibrations
Like trillions of porcelain
Vases shattering...
Light over the laminae of roofs,
Diffusing in shimmering nebulae
About the night's boundaries,
Or billowing in pearly foam
Submerging the low-lying stars...
Light for the feast prolonged - 
Captive light in the goblets quivering...
Sparks evanescent
Struck of meeting looks - 
Fringed eyelids leashing
Sheathed and leaping lights...
Infinite bubbles of light
Bursting, reforming...
Silvery filings of light
Incessantly falling...
Scintillant, sided dust of light
Out of the white flares of Broadway - 
Like a great spurious diamond
In the night's corsage faceted...
Broadway,
In ambuscades of light,
Drawing the charmed multitudes
With the slow suction of her breath - 
Dangling her naked soul
Behind the blinding gold of eunuch lights
That wind about her like a bodyguard.
Or like a huge serpent, iridescent-scaled,
Trailing her coruscating length
Over the night prostrate - 
Triumphant poised,
Her hydra heads above the avenues,
Values appraising
And her avid eyes
Glistening with eternal watchfulness...
Broadway - 
Out of her towers rampant,
Like an unsubtle courtezan
Reserving nought for some adventurous night.
The Madonna Of The Veil.
by Margaret Steele Anderson

Light through a little veil is all thy trace
Of halo, blessed Child!
The sorrow of the world is in thy face,
fair, undefiled!
dear and undefiled!
The kneeling boy, with pretty lips apart,
Half loves, half worships thee;
Baby and sweet, yet separate thou art
To that simplicity,
To that young piety!
But Mary's look no hint of anguish stirs;
Perfect that motherhood;
One day the bitter sword, this day is hers;
And, God!, how very good!
gracious God! How good!
Oyvind's Song (From A Happy Boy)
by Bj'rnstjerne Martinius Bj'rnson

Lift thy head, thou undaunted youth!
Though some hope may now break, forsooth,
Brighter a new one and higher
Shall throe eye fill with its fire.
Lift thy head to the vision clear!
Something near thee is calling: "Here!" - 
Something with myriad voicing,
Ever in courage rejoicing.
Lift thy head, for an azure height
Rears within thee a vault of light;
Music of harps there is ringing,
Jubilant, rapturous singing.
Lift thy head and thy longing sing!
None shall conquer the growing spring;
Where there is life-making power,
Time shall set free the flower.
Lift thy head and thyself baptize
In the hopes that radiant rise,
Heaven to earth foreshowing,
And in each life-spark glowing!
Pictures
by John Greenleaf Whittier

I.
Light, warmth, and sprouting greenness, and o'er all
Blue, stainless, steel-bright ether, raining down
Tranquillity upon the deep-hushed town,
The freshening meadows, and the hillsides brown;
Voice of the west-wind from the hills of pine,
And the brimmed river from its distant fall,
Low hum of bees, and joyous interlude
Of bird-songs in the streamlet-skirting wood,
Heralds and prophecies of sound and sight,
Blessed forerunners of the warmth and light,
Attendant angels to the house of prayer,
With reverent footsteps keeping pace with mine,
Once more, through God's great love, with you I share
A morn of resurrection sweet and fair
As that which saw, of old, in Palestine,
Immortal Love uprising in fresh bloom
From the dark night and winter of the tomb!
2d, 5th mo., 1852.
II.
White with its sun-bleached dust, the pathway winds
Before me; dust is on the shrunken grass,
And on the trees beneath whose boughs I pass;
Frail screen against the Hunter of the sky,
Who, glaring on me with his lidless eye,
While mounting with his dog-star high and higher
Ambushed in light intolerable, unbinds
The burnished quiver of his shafts of fire.
Between me and the hot fields of his South
A tremulous glow, as from a furnace-mouth,
Glimmers and swims before my dazzled sight,
As if the burning arrows of his ire
Broke as they fell, and shattered into light;
Yet on my cheek I feel the western wind,
And hear it telling to the orchard trees,
And to the faint and flower-forsaken bees,
Tales of fair meadows, green with constant streams,
And mountains rising blue and cool behind,
Where in moist dells the purple orchis gleams,
And starred with white the virgin's bower is twined.
So the o'erwearied pilgrim, as he fares
Along life's summer waste, at times is fanned,
Even at noontide, by the cool, sweet airs
Of a serener and a holier land,
Fresh as the morn, and as the dewfall bland.
Breath of the blessed Heaven for which we pray,
Blow from the eternal hills! make glad our earthly way!
8th mo., 185
Lightnings May Flicker Round My Head
by Richard Le Gallienne

Lightnings may flicker round my head,
And all the world seem doom,
If you, like a wild rose, will walk
Strangely into the room.
If only my sad heart may hear
Your voice of faery laughter - 
What matters though the heavens fall,
And hell come thundering after.
Sonnet. Morning.
by Thomas Gent

Light as the breeze that hails the infant morn
The Milkmaid trips, as o'er her arm she slings
Her cleanly pail, some fav'rite lay she sings
As sweetly wild and cheerful as the horn.
O! happy girl I may never faithless love,
Or fancied splendour, lead thy steps astray;
No cares becloud the sunshine of thy day,
Nor want e'er urge thee from thy cot to rove.
What though thy station dooms thee to be poor,
And by the hard-earn'd morsel thou art fed;
Yet sweet content bedecks thy lowly bed,
And health and peace sit smiling at thy door:
Of these possess'd--thou hast a gracious meed,
Which Heaven's high wisdom gives, to make thee rich indeed!
Lightly Come Or Lightly Go
by James Joyce

Lightly come or lightly go:
Though thy heart presage thee woe,
Vales and many a wasted sun,
Oread let thy laughter run,
Till the irreverent mountain air
Ripple all thy flying hair.
Lightly, lightly'ever so:
Clouds that wrap the vales below
At the hour of evenstar
Lowliest attendants are;
Love and laughter song-confessed
When the heart is heaviest.
May.
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Light and silv'ry cloudlets hover
In the air, as yet scarce warm;
Mild, with glimmer soft tinged over,
Peeps the sun through fragrant balm.
Gently rolls and heaves the ocean
As its waves the bank o'erflow.
And with ever restless motion
Moves the verdure to and fro,
Mirror'd brightly far below.
What is now the foliage moving?
Air is still, and hush'd the breeze,
Sultriness, this fullness loving,
Through the thicket, from the trees.
Now the eye at once gleams brightly,
See! the infant band with mirth
Moves and dances nimbly, lightly,
As the morning gave it birth,
Flutt'ring two and two o'er earth.
Let The Light Enter.
by Frances Ellen Watkins Harper

The dying words of Goethe.
"Light! more light! the shadows deepen,
And my life is ebbing low,
Throw the windows widely open:
Light! more light! before I go.
"Softly let the balmy sunshine
Play around my dying bed,
E'er the dimly lighted valley
I with lonely feet must tread.
"Light! more light! for Death is weaving
Shadows 'round my waning sight,
And I fain would gaze upon him
Through a stream of earthly light."
Not for greater gifts of genius;
Not for thoughts more grandly bright,
All the dying poet whispers
Is a prayer for light, more light.
Heeds he not the gathered laurels,
Fading slowly from his sight;
All the poet's aspirations
Centre in that prayer for light.
Gracious Saviour, when life's day-dreams
Melt and vanish from the sight,
May our dim and longing vision
Then be blessed with light, more light.
Hymn To The Sun
by Matthew Prior

I
Light of the World, and Ruler of the Year,
With happy Speed begin Thy great Career;
And, as Thou dost thy radiant Journeys run,
Through every distant Climate own,
That in fair Albion Thou hast seen
The greatest Prince, the brightest Queen,
That ever sav'd a Land, or blest a Throne,
Since first Thy Beams were spread, or Genial Power was known.
II
So may Thy Godhead be confest;
So the returning Year be blest;
As His Infant Months bestow
Springing Wreaths for William's Brow;
As His Summer's Youth shall shed
Eternal Sweets around Maria's Head.
From the Blessings They bestow,
Our Times are dated, and our 'ra's move:
They govern, and enlighten all Below,
As Thou dost all Above.
III
Let our Hero in the War
Active and fierce, like Thee, appear:
Like Thee, great Son of Jove, like Thee,
When clad in rising Majesty,
Thou marchest down o'er Delos' Hills confest,
With all Thy Arrows arm'd, in all Thy Glory drest.
Like Thee, the Hero does his Arms imploy,
The raging Python to destroy,
And give the injur'd Nations Peace and Joy.
IV
From fairest Years, and Time's more happy Stores,
Gather all the smiling Hours;
Such as with friendly Care have guarded
Patriots and Kings in rightful Wars;
Such as with Conquest have rewarded
Triumphant Victors happy Cares;
Such as Story has recorded
Sacred to Nassau's long Renown,
For Countries sav'd, and Battels won.
V
March Them again in fair Array,
And bid Them form the happy Day,
The happy Day design'd to wait
On William's Fame, and Europe's Fate.
Let the happy Day be crown'd
With great Event, and fair Success;
No brighter in the Year be found,
But That which brings the Victor home in Peace.
VI
Again Thy Godhead We implore,
Great in Wisdom as in Power;
Again, for good Maria's Sake, and Our's,
Chuse out other smiling Hours,
Such as with Joyous Wings have fled,
When happy Counsels were advising;
Such as have lucky Omens shed
O'er forming Laws, and Empires rising;
Such as many Courses ran,
Hand in Hand, a goodly Train,
To bless the great Eliza's Reign;
And in the Typic Glory show,
What fuller Bliss Maria shall bestow.
VII
As the solemn Hours advance,
Mingled send into the Dance
Many fraught with all the Treasures,
Which Thy Eastern Travels views;
Many wing'd with all the Pleasures,
Man can ask, or Heav'n diffuse:
That great Maria all those Joys may know,
Which, from Her Cares, upon Her Subjects flow.
VIII
For Thy own Glory sing our Soveraign's Praise,
God of Verses and of Days:
Let all Thy tuneful Sons adorn
Their lasting Work with William's Name:
Let chosen Muses yet unborn
Take great Maria for their future Theme:
Eternal Structures let Them raise,
On William's and Maria's Praise:
Nor want new Subject for the Song;
Nor fear they can exhaust the Store;
'Till Nature's Musick lyes unstrung;
'Till Thou, great God, shalt lose Thy double Pow'r;
And touch Thy Lyre, and shoot Thy Beams no more.
The League Of Nations
by Henry Lawson

Light on the towns and cities, and peace for evermore!
The Big Five met in the world's light as many had met before,
And the future of man is settled and there shall be no more war.
The lamb shall lie down with the lion, and trust with treachery;
The brave man go with the coward, and the chained mind shackle the free,
And the truthful sit with the liar ever by land and sea.
And there shall be no more passion and no more love nor hate;
No more contempt for the paltry, no more respect for the great;
And the people shall breed like rabbits and mate as animals mate.
For lo! the Big Five have said it, each with a fearsome frown;
Each for his chosen country, State, and city and town;
Each for his lawn and table and the bed where he lies him down.
Cobbler and crank and chandler, magpie and ape disguised;
Each bound to his grocery corner, these are the Five we prized;
Bleating the teaching of others whom they ever despised.
But three shall meet in a cellar, companions of mildew and rats;
And three shall meet in a garret, pungent with stench of the cats,
And three in a cave in the forest where the torchlight maddens the bats,
Bats as blind as the people, streaming into the glare,
And the Nine shall turn the nations back to the plain things there;
Tracing in chalk and charcoal treaties that none can tear:
Truth that goes higher than airships and deeper than submarines,
And a message swifter than wireless, and none shall know what it means,
Till an army is rushed together and ready behind the scenes.
The Big Five sit together in the light of the World and day,
Each tied to his grocery corner though he travel the world for aye,
Each bleating the dreams of dreamers whom he has despised alway.
And intellect shall be tortured, and art destroyed for a span,
The brute shall defile the pictures as he did when the age began;
He shall hawk and spit in the palace to prove that he is a man.
Cobbler and crank and chandler, magpie and ape disguised;
Each bound to his grocery corner, these are the Five we prized;
Bleating the teaching of others whom they ever despised.
Let the nations scatter their armies and level their arsenals well,
Let them blow their airships to Heaven and sink their warships to Hell,
Let them maim the feet of the runner and silence the drum and the bell;
But shapes shall glide from the cellar who never had dared to "strike",
And shapes shall drop from the garret (ghastly and so alike)
To drag from the cave in the forest powder and cannon and pike.
As of old, we are sending a message to Garcia still,
Smoke from the peak by sunlight, beacon by night from the hill;
And the drum shall throb in the distance, the drum that never was still.
Sonnet XV.
by Fernando Ant'nio Nogueira Pessoa

Like a bad suitor desperate and trembling
From the mixed sense of being not loved and loving,
Who with feared longing half would know, dissembling
With what he'd wish proved what he fears soon proving,
I look with inner eyes afraid to look,
Yet perplexed into looking, at the worth
This verse may have and wonder, of my book,
To what thoughts shall't in alien hearts give birth.
But, as he who doth love, and, loving, hopes,
Yet, hoping, fears, fears to put proof to proof,
And in his mind for possible proofs gropes,
Delaying the true proof, lest the real thing scoff,
I daily live, i'th' fame I dream to see,
But by my thought of others' thought of me.
Sonnet.
by Percy Bysshe Shelley

Lift not the painted veil which those who live
Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there,
And it but mimic all we would believe
With colours idly spread, - behind, lurk Fear
And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave
Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear.
I knew one who had lifted it - he sought,
For his lost heart was tender, things to love
But found them not, alas! nor was there aught
The world contains, the which he could approve.
Through the unheeding many he did move,
A splendour among shadows, a bright blot
Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove
For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.
On A Noted Coxcomb.
by Robert Burns

Light lay the earth on Willy's breast,
His chicken-heart so tender;
But build a castle on his head,
His skull will prop it under.
Marguerite
by Pamela S. Vining, (J. C. Yule)

Lightly the shadows
Play through the trees,
Green are the meadows,
Soft is the breeze, - 
June's early roses,
Pensive and sweet,
Droop where reposes
Lost Marguerite!
Meeting thee never
In the green bowers, - 
Missing thee ever
'Mid the fresh flowers, - 
Till the long hours die - 
Hours once so fleet - 
Hopelessly wait I,
Lost Marguerite!
Day has grown weary
In the blue sky,
Summer is dreary,
Melodies die;
Lowly the willow
Droopeth to meet
And kiss thy pillow,
Lost Marguerite!
Flower the fairest
Of sweet summer time,
Rosebud the rarest
Plucked ere its prime,
Mine to weep ever
Where the wares beat,
Meeting thee never,
Lost Marguerite!
The New Year.
by Madison Julius Cawein

Lift up thy torch, O Year, and let us see
What Destiny
Hath made thee heir to at nativity!
Doubt, some call Faith; and ancient Wrong and Might,
Whom some name Right;
And Darkness, that the purblind world calls Light.
Despair, with Hope's brave form; and Hate, who goes
In Friendship's clothes;
And Happiness, the mask of many woes.
Neglect, whom Merit serves; Lust, to whom, see,
Love bends the knee;
And Selfishness, who preacheth charity.
Vice, in whose dungeon Virtue lies in chains;
And Cares and Pains,
That on the throne of Pleasure hold their reigns.
Corruption, known as Honesty; and Fame
That's but a name;
And Innocence, the outward guise of Shame.
And Folly, men call Wisdom here, forsooth;
And, like a youth,
Fair Falsehood, whom some worship for the Truth.
Abundance, who hath Famine's house in lease;
And, high 'mid these,
War, blood-black, on the spotless shrine of Peace.
Lift up thy torch, O Year! assist our sight!
Deep lies the night
Around us, and GOD grants us little light!
Farewell.
by Marietta Holley

Lift up your brown eyes, darling,
Not timidly and shy,
As in the fair, lost past, not thus
I'd have you meet my eye.
But grave, and calm, and earnest,
Thus bravely should we part,
Not sorrowfully, not lightly,
And so farewell, dear heart.
Yes, fare thee well, farewell,
Whate'er shall me betide
May gentlest angels comfort thee,
And peace with thee abide;
Our love was but a stormy love,
'Tis your will we should part - 
So smile upon me once, darling,
And then farewell, dear heart.
But lay your hand once on my brow,
Set like a saintly crown,
It will shield me, it will help me
To hurl temptations down.
God give thee better love than mine - 
Nay, dear, no tears must start,
See, I am quiet, thou must be,
And now farewell, dear heart.
By Wood And Wold - A Preamble
by Adam Lindsay Gordon

'Beneath the greenwood bough.'
- W. Scott.
Lightly the breath of the spring wind blows,
Though laden with faint perfume,
'Tis the fragrance rare that the bushman knows,
The scent of the wattle bloom.
Two-thirds of our journey at least are done,
Old horse! let us take a spell
In the shade from the glare of the noonday sun,
Thus far we have travell'd well;
Your bridle I'll slip, your saddle ungirth,
And lay them beside this log,
For you'll roll in that track of reddish earth,
And shake like a water-dog.
Upon yonder rise there's a clump of trees,
Their shadows look cool and broad,
You can crop the grass as fast as you please,
While I stretch my limbs on the sward;
'Tis pleasant, I ween, with a leafy screen
O'er the weary head, to lie
On the mossy carpet of emerald green,
'Neath the vault of the azure sky;
Thus all alone by the wood and wold,
I yield myself once again
To the memories old that, like tales fresh told,
Come flitting across the brain.
The Boy Of The Alps.
by Thomas Moore

Lightly, Alpine rover,
Tread the mountains over;
Rude is the path thou'st yet to go;
Snow cliffs hanging o'er thee,
Fields of ice before thee,
While the hid torrent moans below.
Hark, the deep thunder,
Thro' the vales yonder!
'Tis the huge avalanche downward cast;
From rock to rock
Rebounds the shock.
But courage, boy! the danger's past.
Onward, youthful rover,
Tread the glacier over,
Safe shalt thou reach thy home at last.
On, ere light forsake thee,
Soon will dusk o'ertake thee:
O'er yon ice-bridge lies thy way!
Now, for the risk prepare thee;
Safe it yet may bear thee,
Tho' 'twill melt in morning's ray.
Hark, that dread howling!
'Tis the wolf prowling,--
Scent of thy track the foe hath got;
And cliff and shore
Resound his roar.
But courage, boy,--the danger's past!
Watching eyes have found thee,
Loving arms are round thee,
Safe hast thou reached thy father's cot.
Watching
by Henry Kendall

Like a beautiful face looking ever at me
A pure bright moon cometh over the sea;
And I stand on the crags, and hear the falls
Go tumbling down, through the black river-walls;
And the heart of the gorge is rent with the cry
Of the pent-up winds in their agony!
You are far from me, dear, where I watch and wait,
Like a weary bird for a long-lost mate,
And my life is as dull as the sluggish stream
Feeling its way through a world of dream;
For here is a waste of darkness and fear,
And I call and I call, but no one will hear!
O darling of mine, do you ever yearn
For a something lost, which will never return?
O darling of mine, on the grave of dead Hours,
Do you feel, like me, for a handful of flowers?
Through the glens of the Past, do you wander along,
Like a restless ghost that hath done a wrong?
And, lying alone, do you look from the drouth
Of a thirsty Life with a pleading mouth?
When the rain's on the roof, and the gales are abroad,
Do you wash with your tears the feet of your God?
Oh! I know you do, and he sitteth alone,
Your wounded Love, while you mourn and moan
Oh! I know you do, and he never will leap
From his silence with smiles, while you weep and weep!
Your coolness shake down, ye gathered green leaves,
For my spirit is faint with the love that it grieves!
Is there aught on the summit, O yearner through Night,
Aught on the summit which looks like the light;
When my soul is a-wearied and lone in the land,
Groping around will it touch a kind hand?
There are chasms between us as black as a pall,
But bring us together, O God over all!
And let me cast from me these fetters of Fear,
When I hear the glad singing of Faith so near;
For I know by the cheeks, which are pallid and wet,
And a listening life we shall mingle yet!
Oh! then I will turn to those eloquent eyes,
And clasp thee close, with a sweet surprise;
And a guest will go in by the heart's holy door,
And the chambers of Love shall be left no more.
A Protest
by Arthur Hugh Clough

Light words they were, and lightly, falsely said:
She heard them, and she started, and she rose,
As in the act to speak; the sudden thought
And unconsidered impulse led her on.
In act to speak she rose, but with the sense
Of all the eyes of that mixed company
Now suddenly turned upon her, some with age
Hardened and dulled, some cold and critical;
Some in whom vapours of their own conceit,
As moist malarious mists the heavenly stars,
Still blotted out their good, the best at best
By frivolous laugh and prate conventional
All too untuned for all she thought to say
With such a thought the mantling blood to her cheek
Flushed-up, and o'er-flushed itself, blank night her soul
Made dark, and in her all her purpose swooned.
She stood as if for sinking. Yet anon
With recollections clear, august, sublime,
Of God's great truth, and right immutable,
Which, as obedient vassals, to her mind
Came summoned of her will, in self-negation
Quelling her troublous earthy consciousness,
She queened it o'er her weakness. At the spell
Back rolled the ruddy tide, and leaves her cheek
Paler than erst, and yet not ebbs so far
But that one pulse of one indignant thought
Might hurry it hither in flood. So as she stood
She spoke. God in her spoke and made her heard.
Discontent
by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Light human nature is too lightly tost
And ruffled without cause, complaining on 
Restless with rest, until, being overthrown,
It learneth to lie quiet. Let a frost
Or a small wasp have crept to the inner-most
Of our ripe peach, or let the wilful sun
Shine westward of our window, straight we run
A furlong's sigh as if the world were lost.
But what time through the heart and through the brain
God hath transfixed us, we, so moved before,
Attain to a calm. Ay, shouldering weights of pain,
We anchor in deep waters, safe from shore,
And hear submissive o'er the stormy main
God's chartered judgments walk for evermore.
Love In A Mist
by Algernon Charles Swinburne

Light love in a mist, by the midsummer moon misguided,
Scarce seen in the twilight garden if gloom insist,
Seems vainly to seek for a star whose gleam has derided
Light love in a mist.
All day in the sun, when the breezes do all they list,
His soft blue raiment of cloudlike blossom abided
Unrent and unwithered of winds and of rays that kissed.
Blithe-hearted or sad, as the cloud or the sun subsided,
Love smiled in the flower with a meaning whereof none wist
Save two that beheld, as a gleam that before them glided,
Light love in a mist.