DanFosing/public-domain-poetry huggingface dataset:
Hymn To The Eternal.
by Friedrich Schiller

'Twixt the heavens and earth, high in the airy ocean,
In the tempest's cradle I'm borne with a rocking motion;
Clouds are towering,
Storms beneath me are lowering,
Giddily all the wonders I see,
And, O Eternal, I think of Thee!
All Thy terrible pomp, lend to the Finite now,
Mighty Nature! Oh, of Infinity, thou
Giant daughter!
Mirror God, as in water!
Tempest, oh, let thine organ-peal
God to the reasoning worm reveal!
Hark! it peals how the rocks quiver beneath its growls
Zeboath's glorious name, wildly the hurricane howls!
Graving the while
With the lightning's style
"Creatures, do ye acknowledge me?"
Spare us, Lord! We acknowledge Thee!
The Difference Betwixt Kings And Subjects.
by Robert Herrick

'Twixt kings and subjects there's this mighty odds:
Subjects are taught by men; kings by the gods.
Reflection
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Twice have I seen God's full reflected grace.
Once when the wailing of a child at birth
Proclaimed another soul had come to earth,
That look shone on, and through the mother's face.
And once when silence, absolute and vast,
Followed the final indrawn mortal breath,
Sudden upon the countenance of death
That supreme glory of God's grace was cast.
The Echo
by Henry John Newbolt, Sir

Of A Ballad Sung By H. Plunket Greene To His Old School
Twice three hundred boys were we,
Long ago, long ago,
Where the Downs look out to the Severn Sea.
Clifton for aye!
We held by the game and hailed the team,
For many could play where few could dream.
City of Song shall stand alway.
Some were for profit and some for pride,
Long ago, long ago,
Some for the flag they lived and died.
Clifton for aye!
The work of the world must still be done,
And minds are many though truth be one.
City of Song shall stand alway.
But a lad there was to his fellows sang,
Long ago, long ago,
And soon the world to his music rang.
Clifton for aye!
Follow your Captains, crown your Kings,
But what will ye give to the lad that sings?
City of Song shall stand alway.
For the voice ye hear is the voice of home,
Long ago, long ago,
And the voice of Youth with the world to roam.
Clifton for aye!
The voice of passion and human tears,
And the voice of the vision that lights the years.
City of Song shall stand alway.
The Houses
by Rudyard Kipling

'Twixt my house and thy house the pathway is broad,
In thy house or my house is half the world's hoard;
By my house and thy house hangs all the world's fate,
On thy house and my house lies half the world's hate.
For my house and thy house no help shall we find
Save thy house and my house, kin cleaving to kind;
If my house be taken, thine tumbleth anon.
If thy house be forfeit, mine followeth soon.
'Twixt my house and thy house what talk can there be
Of headship or lordship, or service or fee?
Since my house to thy house no greater can send
Than thy house to my house, friend comforting friend;
And thy house to my house no meaner can bring
Than my house to thy house, King counselling King!
Twilight.
by Robert Herrick

Twilight no other thing is, poets say,
Than the last part of night and first of day.
The Elephant And The Ape Of Jupiter.
by Jean de La Fontaine

'Twixt elephant and beast of horned nose
About precedence a dispute arose,
Which they determined to decide by blows.
The day was fix'd, when came a messenger
To say the ape of Jupiter
Was swiftly earthward seen to bear
His bright caduceus through the air.
This monkey, named in history Gill,
The elephant at once believed
A high commission had received
To witness, by his sovereign's will,
The aforesaid battle fought.
Uplifted by the glorious thought,
The beast was prompt on Monsieur Gill to wait,
But found him slow, in usual forms of state,
His high credentials to present.
The ape, however, ere he went,
Bestow'd a passing salutation.
His excellency would have heard
The subject matter of legation:
But not a word!
His fight, so far from stirring heaven, - 
The news was not received there, even!
What difference sees the impartial sky
Between an elephant and fly?
Our monarch, doting on his object,
Was forced himself to break the subject.
'My cousin Jupiter,' said he,
'Will shortly, from his throne supreme,
A most important combat see,
For all his court a thrilling theme.'
'What combat?' said the ape, with serious face.
'Is't possible you should not know the case? - '
The elephant exclaim'd - 'not know, dear sir,
That Lord Rhinoceros disputes
With me precedence of the brutes?
That Elephantis is at war
With savage hosts of Rhinocer?
You know these realms, not void of fame?'
'I joy to learn them now by name,'
Return'd Sir Gill, 'for, first or last,
No lisp of them has ever pass'd
Throughout our dome so blue and vast.'
Abash'd, the elephant replied,
'What came you, then, to do? - '
'Between two emmets to divide
A spire of grass in two.
We take of all a care;
And, as to your affair,
Before the gods, who view with equal eyes
The small and great, it hath not chanced to rise.'
Kings And Tyrants.
by Robert Herrick

'Twixt kings and tyrants there's this difference known:
Kings seek their subjects' good, tyrants their own.
Bacchus In The Pillory.
by Friedrich Schiller

Twirl him! twirl him! blind and dumb
Deaf and dumb,
Twirl the cane so troublesome!
Sprigs of fashion by the dozen
Thou dost bring to book, good cousin.
Cousin, thou art not in clover;
Many a head that's filled with smoke
Thou hast twirled and well-nigh broke,
Many a clever one perplexed,
Many a stomach sorely vexed,
Turning it completely over;
Many a hat put on awry,
Many a lamb chased cruelly,
Made streets, houses, edges, trees,
Dance around us fools with ease.
Therefore thou are not in clover,
Therefore thou, like other folk,
Hast thy head filled full of smoke,
Therefore thou, too, art perplexed,
And thy stomach's sorely vexed,
For 'tis turned completely over;
Therefore thou art not in clover.
Twirl him! twirl him! blind and dumb
Deaf and dumb,
Twirl the carle so troublesome!
Seest thou how our tongues and wits
Thou hast shivered into bits
Seest thou this, licentious wight?
How we're fastened to a string,
Whirled around in giddy ring,
Making all like night appear,
Filling with strange sounds our ear?
Learn it in the stocks aright!
When our ears wild noises shook,
On the sky we cast no look,
Neither stock nor stone reviewed,
But were punished as we stood.
Seest thou now, licentious wight?
That, to us, yon flaring sun
Is the Heidelbergers' tun;
Castles, mountains, trees, and towers,
Seem like chopin-cups of ours.
Learn'st thou now, licentious wight?
Learn it in the stocks aright!
Twirl him! twirl him! blind and dumb,
Deaf and dumb,
Twirl the carle so troublesome!
Kinsman, once so full of glee,
Kinsman, where's thy drollery,
Where thy tricks, thou cunning one?
All thy tricks are spent and past,
To the devil gone at last
Like a silly fop thou'lt prate,
Like a washerwoman rate.
Thou art but a simpleton.
Now thou mayest more shame to thee
Run away, because of me;
Cupid, that young rogue, may glory
Learning wisdom from thy story;
Haste, thou sluggard, hence to flee
As from glass is cut our wit,
So, like lightning, 'twill be split;
If thou won't be chased away,
Let each folly also stay
Seest my meaning? Think of me!
Idle one, away with thee!
Twin'St Thou With Lofty Wreath Thy Brow? By Paul, The Silentiary.
by Thomas Moore

Twin'st thou with lofty wreath thy brow?
Such glory then thy beauty sheds,
I almost think, while awed I bow
'Tis Rhea's self before me treads.
Be what thou wilt,--this heart
Adores whate'er thou art!
Dost thou thy loosened ringlets leave,
Like sunny waves to wander free?
Then, such a chain of charms they weave,
As draws my inmost soul from me.
Do what thou wilt,--I must
Be charm'd by all thou dost!
Even when, enwrapt in silvery veils,
Those sunny locks elude the sight,--
Oh, not even then their glory fails
To haunt me with its unseen light.
Change as thy beauty may,
It charms in every way.
For, thee the Graces still attend,
Presiding o'er each new attire,
And lending every dart they send
Some new, peculiar touch of fire,
Be what thou wilt,--this heart
Adores what'er thou art!
The Wild Duck
by John Masefield

Twilight. Red in the West.
Dimness. A glow on the wood.
The teams plod home to rest.
The wild duck come to glean.
O souls not understood,
What a wild cry in the pool;
What things have the farm ducks seen
That they cry so--huddle and cry?
Only the soul that goes.
Eager. Eager. Flying.
Over the globe of the moon,
Over the wood that glows.
Wings linked. Necks a-strain,
A rush and a wild crying.
A cry of the long pain
In the reeds of a steel lagoon,
In a land that no man knows.
Up'ards
by Marriott Edgar

'Twere getting dusk, one winter's night,
When up the clough there came in sight,
A lad who carried through the snow,
A banner with this 'ere motto...
'Uppards'
His face was glum as he did pass,
His eyes were shiny... just like glass,
And as he went upon his way,
He nobbut this 'ere word did say...
'Uppards'
And people sitting down to tea,
They heard him plan, as plain can be,
They thowt 'twere final football score,
As this 'ere word rang out once more...
'Uppards'
A policeman on his lonely beat,
He stopped the lad up t' end of t' street,
He said, "Where't going wi' that theer?"
The lad just whispered in his ear...
'Uppards'
"Don't go down t' clough." the policeman said,
"It's mucky road for thee to tread,
Canal's at bottom... deep and wide."
"That's not my road." the lad replied,
It's... 'Uppards'
A young lass stopped him further up,
She said "Come in wi' me, and sup."
He said, "I'm takin none o' yon,
Besides... I must be getting on...
'Uppards'"
Next day some lads had just begun,
To tak' their whippets for a run,
When dogs got scratching in the snow,
And found flag with this 'ere motto...
'Uppards'
That set them digging all around,
And 'twasn't long before they found,
A lad whose name they never learned,
Whose face was white, whose toes had turned...
'Uppards'
'Twas very plain for to behold,
The lad had ta'en his death o' cold,
He'd got his feet wet early on,
And from his feet the cold had gone...
'Uppards'
This story only goes to show,
That when the fields is white wi' snow,
It's inadvisable to go...
'Uppards'
Dream Of The City Shopwoman
by Thomas Hardy

'Twere sweet to have a comrade here,
Who'd vow to love this garreteer,
By city people's snap and sneer
Tried oft and hard!
We'd rove a truant cock and hen
To some snug solitary glen,
And never be seen to haunt again
This teeming yard.
Within a cot of thatch and clay
We'd list the flitting pipers play,
Our lives a twine of good and gay
Enwreathed discreetly;
Our blithest deeds so neighbouring wise
That doves should coo in soft surprise,
"These must belong to Paradise
Who live so sweetly."
Our clock should be the closing flowers,
Our sprinkle-bath the passing showers,
Our church the alleyed willow bowers,
The truth our theme;
And infant shapes might soon abound:
Their shining heads would dot us round
Like mushroom balls on grassy ground . . .
But all is dream!
O God, that creatures framed to feel
A yearning nature's strong appeal
Should writhe on this eternal wheel
In rayless grime;
And vainly note, with wan regret,
Each star of early promise set;
Till Death relieves, and they forget
Their one Life's time!
WESTBOURNE PARK VILLAS, 1866.
Departure From Life.
by Friedrich Schiller

Two are the roads that before thee lie open from life to conduct thee;
To the ideal one leads thee, the other to death.
See that while yet thou art free, on the first thou commencest thy journey,
Ere by the merciless fates on to the other thou'rt led!
Songs Of Education: V. The Higher Mathematics
by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

Form 339125, Sub-Section M
Twice one is two,
Twice two is four,
But twice two is ninety-six if you know the way to score.
Half of two is one,
Half of four is two,
But half of four is forty per cent. if your name is Montagu:
For everything else is on the square
If done by the best quadratics;
And nothing is low in High Finance
Or the Higher Mathematics.
A straight line is straight
And a square mile is flat:
But you learn in trigonometrics a trick worth two of that.
Two straight lines
Can't enclose a Space,
But they can enclose a Corner to support the Chosen Race:
For you never know what Dynamics do
With the lower truths of Statics;
And half of two is a touring car
In the Higher Mathematics.
There is a place apart
Beyond the solar ray,
Where parallel straight lines can meet in an unofficial way.
There is a room that holds
The examiner or his clerks,
Where you can square the circle or the man that gives the marks.
Where you hide in the cellar and then look down
On the poets that live in the attics;
For the whole of the house is upside down
In the Higher Mathematics.
Twist Ye, Twine Ye
by Walter Scott (Sir)

Twist ye, twine ye! even so,
Mingle shades of joy and woe,
Hope, and fear, and peace, and strife,
In the thread of human life.
While the mystic twist is spinning,
And the infant's life beginning,
Dimly seen through twilingt bending,
Lo, what varied shapes attending!
Passions wild, and follies vain,
Pleasures soon exchanged for pain;
Dount, and jealousy, and fear,
In the magic dance appear.
Now they wax, and now they dwindle,
Whirling with the whirling spindle.
Twist ye, twine ye! even so,
Mingle human bliss and woe.
The Grog-an'Grumble Steeplechase
by Henry Lawson

'Twixt the coastline and the border lay the town of Grog-an'-Grumble
In the days before the bushman was a dull 'n' heartless drudge,
An' they say the local meeting was a drunken rough-and-tumble,
Which was ended pretty often by an inquest on the judge.
An' 'tis said the city talent very often caught a tartar
In the Grog-an'-Grumble sportsman, 'n' returned with broken heads,
For the fortune, life, and safety of the Grog-an'-Grumble starter
Mostly hung upon the finish of the local thoroughbreds.
Pat M'Durmer was the owner of a horse they called the Screamer,
Which he called "the quickest stepper 'twixt the Darling and the sea",
And I think it's very doubtful if the stomach-troubled dreamer
Ever saw a more outrageous piece of equine scenery;
For his points were most decided, from his end to his beginning,
He had eyes of different colour, and his legs they wasn't mates.
Pat M'Durmer said he always came "widin a flip of winnin'",
An' his sire had come from England, 'n' his dam was from the States.
Friends would argue with M'Durmer, and they said he was in error
To put up his horse the Screamer, for he'd lose in any case,
And they said a city racer by the name of Holy Terror
Was regarded as the winner of the coming steeplechase;
But he said he had the knowledge to come in when it was raining,
And irrevelantly mentioned that he knew the time of day,
So he rose in their opinion. It was noticed that the training
Of the Screamer was conducted in a dark, mysterious way.
Well, the day arrived in glory; 'twas a day of jubilation
With careless-hearted bushmen for a hundred miles around,
An' the rum 'n' beer 'n' whisky came in waggons from the station,
An' the Holy Terror talent were the first upon the ground.
Judge M'Ard, with whose opinion it was scarcely safe to wrestle,
Took his dangerous position on the bark-and-sapling stand:
He was what the local Stiggins used to speak of as a "wessel
Of wrath", and he'd a bludgeon that he carried in his hand.
"Off ye go!" the starter shouted, as down fell a stupid jockey,
Off they started in disorder, left the jockey where he lay,
And they fell and rolled and galloped down the crooked course and rocky,
Till the pumping of the Screamer could be heard a mile away.
But he kept his legs and galloped; he was used to rugged courses,
And he lumbered down the gully till the ridge began to quake:
And he ploughed along the siding, raising earth till other horses
An' their riders, too, were blinded by the dust-cloud in his wake.
From the ruck he'd struggled slowly, they were much surprised to find him
Close abeam of the Holy Terror as along the flat they tore,
Even higher still and denser rose the cloud of dust behind him,
While in more divided splinters flew the shattered rails before.
"Terror!" "Dead heat!" they were shouting, "Terror!" but the Screamer hung out
Nose to nose with Holy Terror as across the creek they swung,
An' M'Durmer shouted loudly, "Put yer toungue out! put yer tongue out!"
An ' the Screamer put his tongue out, and he won by half-a-tongue.
If
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

'Twixt what thou art, and what thou wouldst be, let
No "If" arise on which to lay the blame.
Man makes a mountain of that puny word,
But, like a blade of grass before the scythe,
It falls and withers when a human will,
Stirred by creative force, sweeps toward its aim.
Thou wilt be what thou couldst be.    Circumstance
Is but the toy of genius.    When a soul
Burns with a god-like purpose to achieve,
All obstacles between it and its goal
Must vanish as the dew before the sun.
"If" is the motto of the dilettante
And idle dreamer; 'tis the poor excuse
Of mediocrity.    The truly great
Know not the word, or know it but to scorn,
Else had Joan of Arc a peasant died,
Uncrowned by glory and by men unsung.
Twin Lilies.
by Fannie Isabelle Sherrick

Twin lilies in the river floating,
Two lilies pure and white;
And one is pale and faintly drooping,
The other glad and bright.
Twin lilies in the silvery waters,
Two lilies white and frail;
And one is ever laughing gladly,
The other, still and pale.
Upon the peaceful gleaming waters,
They linger side by side;
And one, her head is drooping sadly;
The other glows with pride.
Twin stars are o'er the river beaming,
Two stars with silvery light;
And now they look with glances loving
Upon the lilies white.
Two lilies now are drooping lowly
Unto the river tide;
While in the wave the stars reflected
Are floating side by side.
And now the stars are bending slowly
To kiss the lilies white;
Who e'en their fragrant heads are lifting
In wonder at the sight.
And one twin lily now is longing
For light and heaven above;
And yields unto her star-king's keeping
Her wealth of life and love.
And as the star-god bends in rapture
To kiss her pale, white face,
Her soul is wafted into heaven
Beneath his love and grace.
Twin lilies in the tide were floating,
With quickly coming breath,
But one is left, with sad tears falling,
To mourn her sister's death.
Twin stars upon the waves were gleaming;
Two star-gods pure and bright;
But one is left--that one is fading
And dying with the night.
Sanzas
by Pamela S. Vining, (J. C. Yule)

"Whom have I in heaven but thee?"
'Twere nought to me, yon glorious arch of night,
Decked with the gorgeous blazonry of heaven,
If, to my faith, amid its splendors bright,
No vision of the Eternal One were given;
I could but view a dreary, soulless waste - 
A vast expanse of solitude unknown; - 
More cheerless for the splendors o'er it cast,
For all its grandeur more intensely lone.
'Twere nought to me, this ever-changing scene
Of earthly beauty, sunshine, and delight - 
The wood's deep shadows and the valley's green,
Morn's tender glow, and sunset's splendors bright - 
Nought, if my Father smiled not from the sky,
The cloud, the flower, the landscape, and the leaf;
My soul would pine 'mid Earth's vain pageantry,
And droop in hopeless orphanage and grief.
'Twere nought to me, the Ocean's far expanse,
If His perfections were not mirrored there,
Hopeless across the unmeasured waste I'd glance,
And clasp my hands in anguish, not in prayer,
Nought, Nature's anthem, ever swelling up
From Nature's myriad voices, for the hymn
Would breathe nor love, nor gratitude, nor hope,
Robbed of the tones that speak to me of Him.
This wondrous universe, how less than nought
Without my God - how desolate and drear!
A mockery Earth with her vain splendors fraught - 
A gilded pageant every rolling sphere;
The noonday sun with all his glories crowned,
A sickly flame, would glimmer faint and pale;
And all Earth's melodies, their sweetness drowned,
Be but the utt'rance of a funeral wail!
The Two Asses.
by Jean de La Fontaine

Two asses tracking, t'other day,
Of which each in his turn,
Did incense to the other burn,
Quite in the usual way, - 
I heard one to his comrade say,
"My lord, do you not find
The prince of knaves and fools
To be this man, who boasts of mind
Instructed in his schools?
With wit unseemly and profane,
He mocks our venerable race - 
On each of his who lacketh brain
Bestows our ancient surname, ass!
And, with abusive tongue portraying,
Describes our laugh and talk as braying!
These bipeds of their folly tell us,
While thus pretending to excel us."
"No, 'tis for you to speak, my friend,
And let their orators attend.
The braying is their own, but let them be:
We understand each other, and agree,
And that's enough. As for your song,
Such wonders to its notes belong,
The nightingale is put to shame,
The Sirens lose one half their fame."
"My lord," the other ass replied,
"Such talents in yourself reside,
Of asses all, the joy and pride."
These donkeys, not quite satisfied
With scratching thus each other's hide,
Must needs the cities visit,
Their fortunes there to raise,
By sounding forth the praise,
Each, of the other's skill exquisite.
Hat Versus Wig.
by Thomas Moore

"At the interment of the Duke of York, Lord Eldon, in order to guard against the effects of the damp, stood upon his hat during the whole of the ceremony."
--metus omnes et inexorabile fatum
subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis
avari.
'Twixt Eldon's Hat and Eldon's Wig
There lately rose an altercation,--
Each with its own importance big,
Disputing which most serves the nation.
Quoth Wig, with consequential air,
"Pooh! pooh! you surely can't design,
"My worthy beaver, to compare
"Your station in the state with mine.
"Who meets the learned legal crew?
"Who fronts the lordly Senate's pride?
"The Wig, the Wig, my friend--while you
"Hang dangling on some peg outside.
"Oh! 'tis the Wig, that rules, like Love,
"Senate and Court, with like 'clat--
"And wards below and lords above,
"For Law is Wig and Wig is Law!
"Who tried the long, Long WELLESLEY suit,
"Which tried one's patience, in return?
"Not thou, oh Hat!--tho' couldst thou do't,
"Of other brims[1] than thine thou'dst learn.
"'Twas mine our master's toil to share;
"When, like 'Truepenny,' in the play,[2]
"He, every minute, cried out 'Swear,'
"And merrily to swear went they;--[3]
"When, loath poor WELLESLEY to condemn, he
"With nice discrimination weighed,
"Whether 'twas only 'Hell and Jemmy,'
Or 'Hell and Tommy' that he played.
"No, no, my worthy beaver, no--
"Tho' cheapened at the cheapest hatter's,
"And smart enough as beavers go
"Thou ne'er wert made for public matters."
Here Wig concluded his oration,
Looking, as wigs do, wondrous wise;
While thus, full cockt for declamation,
The veteran Hat enraged replies:--
"Ha! dost thou then so soon forget
"What thou, what England owes to me?
"Ungrateful Wig!--when will a debt,
"So deep, so vast, be owed thee?
"Think of that night, that fearful night,
"When, thro' the steaming vault below,
"Our master dared, in gout's despite,
"To venture his podagric toe!
"Who was it then, thou boaster, say
"When thou hadst to thy box sneaked off,
"Beneath his feet protecting lay,
"And saved him from a mortal cough?
"Think, if Catarrh had quenched that sun,
"How blank this world had been to thee!
"Without that head to shine upon,
"Oh Wig, where would thy glory be?
"You, too, ye Britons,--had this hope
"Of Church and State been ravisht from ye,
"Oh think, how Canning and the Pope
"Would then have played up 'Hell and Tommy'!
"At sea, there's but a plank, they say,
"'Twixt seamen and annihilation;
"A Hat, that awful moment, lay
"'Twixt England and Emancipation!
"Oh!!!--"
At this "Oh!!!" The Times Reporter
Was taken poorly, and retired;
Which made him cut Hat's rhetoric shorter,
Than justice to the case required.
On his return, he found these shocks
Of eloquence all ended quite;
And Wig lay snoring in his box,
And Hat was--hung up for the night.
The Hunter
by George William Russell

Twilight, a timid fawn, went glimmering by,
And night, the dark blue hunter, followed fast:
Ceaseless pursuit and flight were in the sky,
But the long chase had ceased for us at last.
We watched together while the driven fawn
Hid in the golden thicket of the day:
We from whose hearts pursuit and flight were gone
Knew on the hunter's breast her refuge lay.