DanFosing/public-domain-poetry huggingface dataset:
Voices Of Earth
by Archibald Lampman

We have not heard the music of the spheres,
The song of star to star, but there are sounds
More deep than human joy and human tears,
That Nature uses in her common rounds;
The fall of streams, the cry of winds that strain
The oak, the roaring of the sea's surge, might
Of thunder breaking afar off, or rain
That falls by minutes in the summer night.
These are the voices of earth's secret soul,
Uttering the mystery from which she came.
To him who hears them grief beyond control,
Or joy inscrutable without a name,
Wakes in his heart thoughts bedded there, impearled,
Before the birth and making of the world.
On A Portrait Of I. F., Painted By Margaret Gillies
by William Wordsworth

We gaze, nor grieve to think that we must die,
But that the precious love this friend hath sown
Within our hearts, the love whose flower hath blown
Bright as if heaven were ever in its eye,
Will pass so soon from human memory;
And not by strangers to our blood alone,
But by our best descendants be unknown,
Unthought of this may surely claim a sigh.
Yet, blessed Art, we yield not to dejection;
Thou against Time so feelingly dost strive.
Where'er, preserved in this most true reflection,
An image of her soul is kept alive,
Some lingering fragrance of the pure affection,
Whose flower with us will vanish, must survive.
John Alden And Percilly.
by James Whitcomb Riley

We got up a Christmas-doin's
Last Christmas Eve - 
Kindo' dimonstration
'At I railly believe
Give more satisfaction - 
Take it up and down - 
Than ary intertainment
Ever come to town!
Railly was a theater - 
That's what it was, - 
But, bein' in the church, you know,
We had a "Santy Clause" - 
So 's to git the old folks
To patternize, you see,
And back the institootion up
Kindo' morally.
Schoolteacher writ the thing - 
(Was a friend o' mine),
Got it out o' Longfeller's
Pome "Evangeline" - 
Er some'rs - 'bout the Purituns - .
Anyway, the part
"John Alden" fell to me - 
And learnt it all by heart!
Claircy was "Percilly" - 
(Schoolteacher 'lowed
Me and her could act them two
Best of all the crowd) - 
Then - blame ef he didn't
Git her Pap, i jing! - 
To take the part o' "Santy Clause,"
To wind up the thing.
Law! the fun o' practisun! - 
Was a week er two
Me and Claircy didn't have
Nothin' else to do! - 
Kep' us jes a-meetin' round,
Kindo' here and there,
Ever' night rehearsin'-like,
And gaddin' ever'where!
Game was wo'th the candle, though! - 
Christmas Eve at last
Rolled around. - And 'tendance jes
Couldn't been surpassed! - 
Neighbors from the country
Come from Clay and Rush - 
Yes, and 'crost the county-line
Clean from Puckerbrush!
Meetin'-house jes trimbled
As "Old Santy" went
Round amongst the childern,
With their pepperment
And sassafrac and wintergreen
Candy, and "a ball
O' popcorn," the preacher 'nounced,
"Free fer each and all!"
Schoolteacher suddently
Whispered in my ear, - 
"Guess I got you: - Christmas-gift! - 
Christmas is here!"
I give him a gold pen,
And case to hold the thing, - 
And Claircy whispered "Christmas-gift!"
And I give her a ring.
"And now," says I, "jes watch me - 
Christmas-gift," says I,
"I'm a-goin' to git one - 
'Santy's' comin' by!" - 
Then I rech and grabbed him:
And, as you'll infer,
'Course I got the old man's,
And he gimme her!
An Argument
by Vachel Lindsay

I.    The Voice of the Man Impatient with Visions and Utopias
We find your soft Utopias as white
As new-cut bread, and dull as life in cells,
O, scribes who dare forget how wild we are
How human breasts adore alarum bells.
You house us in a hive of prigs and saints
Communal, frugal, clean and chaste by law.
I'd rather brood in bloody Elsinore
Or be Lear's fool, straw-crowned amid the straw.
Promise us all our share in Agincourt
Say that our clerks shall venture scorns and death,
That future ant-hills will not be too good
For Henry Fifth, or Hotspur, or Macbeth.
Promise that through to-morrow's spirit-war
Man's deathless soul will hack and hew its way,
Each flaunting Caesar climbing to his fate
Scorning the utmost steps of yesterday.
Never a shallow jester any more!
Let not Jack Falstaff spill the ale in vain.
Let Touchstone set the fashions for the wise
And Ariel wreak his fancies through the rain.
II.    The Rhymer's Reply.    Incense and Splendor
Incense and Splendor haunt me as I go.
Though my good works have been, alas, too few,
Though I do naught, High Heaven comes down to me,
And future ages pass in tall review.
I see the years to come as armies vast,
Stalking tremendous through the fields of time.
MAN is unborn.    To-morrow he is born,
Flame-like to hover o'er the moil and grime,
Striving, aspiring till the shame is gone,
Sowing a million flowers, where now we mourn - 
Laying new, precious pavements with a song,
Founding new shrines, the good streets to adorn.
I have seen lovers by those new-built walls
Clothed like the dawn in orange, gold and red.
Eyes flashing forth the glory-light of love
Under the wreaths that crowned each royal head.
Life was made greater by their sweetheart prayers.
Passion was turned to civic strength that day - 
Piling the marbles, making fairer domes
With zeal that else had burned bright youth away.
I have seen priestesses of life go by
Gliding in samite through the incense-sea - 
Innocent children marching with them there,
Singing in flowered robes, "THE EARTH IS FREE":
While on the fair, deep-carved unfinished towers
Sentinels watched in armor, night and day - 
Guarding the brazier-fires of hope and dream - 
Wild was their peace, and dawn-bright their array!
Disarmament
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

We have outgrown the helmet and cuirass,
The spear, the arrow, and the javelin.
These crude inventions of a cruder age,
When men killed men to show their love of God,
And he who slaughtered most was greatest king.
We have outgrown the need of war!
Should men
Unite in this one thought, all war would end.
Disarm the world; and let all Nations meet
Like Men, not monsters, when disputes arise.
When crossed opinions tangle into snarls,
Let Courts untie them, and not armies cut.
When State discussions breed dissensions, let
Union and Arbitration supersede
The hell-created implements of War.
Disarm the world! and bid destructive thought
Slip like a serpent from the mortal mind
Down through the marshes of oblivion.    Soon
A race of gods shall rise!    Disarm!    Disarm!
September 1, 1802
by William Wordsworth

We had a female Passenger who came
From Calais with us, spotless in array,
A white-robed Negro, like a lady gay,
Yet downcast as a woman fearing blame;
Meek, destitute, as seemed, of hope or aim
She sate, from notice turning not away,
But on all proffered intercourse did lay
A weight of languid speech, or to the same
No sign of answer made by word or face:
Yet still her eyes retained their tropic fire,
That, burning independent of the mind,
Joined with the lustre of her rich attire
To mock the Outcast. O ye Heavens, be kind!
And feel, thou Earth, for this afflicted Race!
Parting
by Bertolt Brecht

We embrace.
Rich cloth under my fingers
While yours touch poor fabric.
A quick embrace
You were invited for dinner
While the minions of law are after me.
We talk about the weather and our
Lasting friendship. Anything else
Would be too bitter.
Sufferings.
by Robert Herrick

We merit all we suffer, and by far
More stripes than God lays on the sufferer.
Lament Of The Winds.
by Archibald Lampman

We in sorrow coldly witting,
In the bleak world sitting, sitting,
By the forest, near the mould,
Heard the summer calling, calling,
Through the dead leaves falling, falling,
That her life grew faint and old.
And we took her up, and bore her,
With the leaves that moaned before her,
To the holy forest bowers,
Where the trees were dense and serried,
And her corpse we buried, buried,
In the graveyard of the flowers.
Now the leaves, as death grows vaster,
Yellowing deeper, dropping faster,
All the grave wherein she lies
With their bodies cover, cover,
With their hearts that love her, love her,
For they live not when she dies:
And we left her so, but stay not
Of our tears, and yet we may not,
Though they coldly thickly fall,
Give the dead leaves any, any,
For they lie so many, many,
That we cannot weep for all.
We May Roam Through This World.
by Thomas Moore

We may roam thro' this world, like a child at a feast,
Who but sips of a sweet, and then flies to the rest;
And, when pleasure begins to grow dull in the east,
We may order our wings and be off to the west;
But if hearts that feel, and eyes that smile,
Are the dearest gifts that heaven supplies,
We never need leave our own green isle,
For sensitive hearts, and for sun-bright eyes.
Then remember, wherever your goblet is crowned,
Thro' this world, whether eastward or westward you roam,
When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round,
Oh! remember the smile which adorns her at home.
In England, the garden of Beauty is kept
By a dragon of prudery placed within call;
But so oft this unamiable dragon has slept,
That the garden's but carelessly watched after all.
Oh! they want the wild sweet-briery fence,
Which round the flowers of Erin dwells;
Which warns the touch, while winning the sense,
Nor charms us least when it most repels.
Then remember, wherever your goblet is crowned,
Thro' this world, whether eastward or westward you roam,
When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round,
Oh! remember the smile that adorns her at home.
In France, when the heart of a woman sets sail,
On the ocean of wedlock its fortune to try,
Love seldom goes far in a vessel so frail,
But just pilots her off, and then bids her good-by.
While the daughters of Erin keep the boy,
Ever smiling beside his faithful oar,
Thro' billows of woe, and beams of joy,
The same as he looked when he left the shore.
Then remember, wherever your goblet is crowned,
Thro' this world, whether eastward or westward you roam,
When a cup to the smile of dear woman goes round,
Oh! remember the smile that adorns her at home.
An Ante-Bellum Sermon
by Paul Laurence Dunbar

We is gathahed hyeah, my brothahs,
In dis howlin' wildaness,
Fu' to speak some words of comfo't
To each othah in distress.
An' we chooses fu' ouah subjic'
Dis--we'll 'splain it by an' by;
"An' de Lawd said, 'Moses, Moses,'
An' de man said, 'Hyeah am I.'"
Now ole Pher'oh, down in Egypt,
Was de wuss man evah bo'n,
An' he had de Hebrew chillun
Down dah wukin' in his co'n;
'T well de Lawd got tiahed o' his foolin',
An' sez he: "I' ll let him know--
Look hyeah, Moses, go tell Pher'oh
Fu' to let dem chillun go."
"An' ef he refuse to do it,
I will make him rue de houah,
Fu' I'll empty down on Egypt
All de vials of my powah."
Yes, he did--an' Pher'oh's ahmy
Wasn't wuth a ha'f a dime;
Fu' de Lawd will he'p his chillun,
You kin trust him evah time.
An' yo' enemies may 'sail you
In de back an' in de front;
But de Lawd is all aroun' you,
Fu' to ba' de battle's brunt.
Dey kin fo'ge yo' chains an' shackles
F'om de mountains to de sea;
But de Lawd will sen' some Moses
Fu' to set his chillun free.
An' de lan' shall hyeah his thundah,
Lak a blas' f'om Gab'el's ho'n,
Fu' de Lawd of hosts is mighty
When he girds his ahmor on.
But fu' feah some one mistakes me,
I will pause right hyeah to say,
Dat I 'm still a-preachin' ancient,
I ain't talkin' 'bout to-day.
But I tell you, fellah christuns,
Things'll happen mighty strange;
Now, de Lawd done dis fu' Isrul,
An' his ways don't nevah change,
An' de love he showed to Isrul
Was n't all on Isrul spent;
Now don't run an' tell yo' mastahs
Dat I's preachin' discontent.
'Cause I isn't; I'se a-judgin'
Bible people by deir ac's;
I 'se a-givin' you de Scriptuah,
I 'se a-handin' you de fac's.
Cose ole Pher'oh b'lieved in slav'ry,
But de Lawd he let him see,
Dat de people he put bref in,--
Evah mothah's son was free.
An' dahs othahs thinks lak Pher'oh,
But dey calls de Scriptuah liar,
Fu' de Bible says "a servant
Is a-worthy of his hire."
An' you cain't git roun' nor thoo dat,
An' you cain't git ovah it,
Fu' whatevah place you git in,
Dis hyeah Bible too 'll fit.
So you see de Lawd's intention,
Evah sence de worl' began,
Was dat His almighty freedom
Should belong to evah man,
But I think it would be bettah,
Ef I'd pause agin to say,
Dat I'm talkin' 'bout ouah freedom
In a Bibleistic way.
But de Moses is a-comin',
An' he's comin', suah and fas'
We kin hyeah his feet a-trompin',
We kin hyeah his trumpit blas'.
But I want to wa'n you people,
Don't you git too brigity;
An' don't you git to braggin'
'Bout dese things, you wait an' see.
But when Moses wif his powah
Comes an' sets us chillun free,
We will praise de gracious Mastah.
Dat has gin us liberty;
An' we 'll shout ouah halleluyahs,
On dat mighty reck'nin' day,
When we 'se reco'nised ez citiz'--
Huh uh! Chillun, let us pray!
Martyrs' Song
by Christina Georgina Rossetti

We meet in joy, though we part in sorrow;
We part to-night, but we meet to-morrow.
Be it flood or blood the path that's trod,
All the same it leads home to God:
Be it furnace-fire voluminous,
One like God's Son will walk with us.
What are these that glow from afar,
These that lean over the golden bar,
Strong as the lion, pure as the dove,
With open arms and hearts of love?
They the blessed ones gone before,
They the blessed for evermore.
Out of great tribulation they went
Home to their home of Heaven-content;
Through flood, or blood, or furnace-fire,
To the rest that fulfils desire.
What are these that fly as a cloud,
With flashing heads and faces bowed,
In their mouths a victorious psalm,
In their hands a robe and palm?
Welcoming angels these that shine,
Your own angel, and yours, and mine;
Who have hedged us, both day and night
On the left hand and the right,
Who have watched us both night and day
Because the devil keeps watch to slay.
Light above light, and Bliss beyond bliss,
Whom words cannot utter, lo, Who is This?
As a King with many crowns He stands,
And our names are graven upon His hands;
As a Priest, with God-uplifted eyes,
He offers for us His sacrifice;
As the Lamb of God for sinners slain,
That we too may live He lives again;
As our Champion behold Him stand,
Strong to save us, at God's Right Hand.
God the Father give us grace
To walk in the light of Jesus' Face.
God the Son give us a part
In the hiding-place of Jesus' Heart:
God the Spirit so hold us up
That we may drink of Jesus' cup;
Death is short and life is long;
Satan is strong, but Christ more strong.
At His Word, Who hath led us hither.
The Red Sea must part hither and thither.
As His Word, Who goes before us too,
Jordan must cleave to let us through.
Yet one pang searching and sore,
And then Heaven for evermore;
Yet one moment awful and dark,
Then safety within the Veil and the Ark;
Yet one effort by Christ His grace,
Then Christ for ever face to face.
God the Father we will adore,
In Jesus' Name, now and evermore:
God the Son we will love and thank
In this flood and on the further bank:
God the Holy Ghost we will praise
In Jesus' Name, through endless days:
God Almighty, God Three in One,
God Almighty, God alone.
Lines On Annexation.
by Nora Pembroke (Margaret Moran Dixon McDougall)

We honour Brother Jonathan,
For what he has done and dared;
Nobly and firmly he hath stood
His freeborn rights to guard.
And when we see him, go ahead,
We are not with envy vexed;
We wish him all prosperity
Yet will not be annexed.
We know he has much moral force;
Much that is good and great;
Much enterprise and energy,
Which we would imitate.
But there's upon his scutcheon stains,
Which we lament to see;
And will not share--will not annex--
Our soil and air are free--
And far more glorious is the flag
Which o'er the Briton waves,
Than that whose stars of freedom shine
Upon the stripes of slaves.
We love our Queen--we love our laws;
We feel that we are free--
As independently we sit,
Each 'neath his maple tree.
Serene, while over other lands
Rolls revolution's storm,
Where they can't speak their grievances--
Dare not demand reform.
We can, as freeborn subjects, make
Our wants and wishes known--
Our voices move the parliament
And vibrate to the throne.
We're Britons and as such we'll not
For annexation sue.
Our prayer is still, God save the Queen
And bless our country too.
1850.
Hidden Gems
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

We know not what lies in us, till we seek;
Men dive for pearls - they are not found on shore,
The hillsides most unpromising and bleak
Do sometimes hide the ore.
Go, dive in the vast ocean of thy mind,
O man! far down below the noisy waves,
Down in the depths and silence thou mayst find
Rare pearls and coral caves.
Sink thou a shaft into the mine of thought;
Be patient, like the seekers after gold;
Under the rocks and rubbish lieth what
May bring thee wealth untold.
Reflected from the vastly Infinite,
However dulled by earth, each human mind
Holds somewhere gems of beauty and of light
Which, seeking, thou shalt find.
Requirement
by John Greenleaf Whittier

We live by Faith; but Faith is not the slave
Of text and legend. Reason's voice and God's,
Nature's and Duty's, never are at odds.
What asks our Father of His children, save
Justice and mercy and humility,
A reasonable service of good deeds,
Pure living, tenderness to human needs,
Reverence and trust, and prayer for light to see
The Master's footprints in our daily ways?
No knotted scourge nor sacrificial knife,
But the calm beauty of an ordered life
Whose very breathing is unworded praise!
A life that stands as all true lives have stood,
Firm-rooted in the faith that God is Good
We Learn In The Retreating
by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson

We learn in the retreating
How vast an one
Was recently among us.
A perished sun
Endears in the departure
How doubly more
Than all the golden presence
It was before!
The Quarter-Gunner's Yarn
by Henry John Newbolt, Sir

We lay at St. Helen's, and easy she rode
With one anchor catted and fresh-water stowed;
When the barge came alongside like bullocks we roared,
For we knew what we carried with Nelson aboard.
Our Captain was Hardy, the pride of us all,
I'll ask for none better when danger shall call;
He was hardy by nature and Hardy by name,
And soon by his conduct to honour he came.
The third day the Lizard was under our lee,
Where the Ajax and Thunderer joined us at sea,
But what with foul weather and tacking about,
When we sighted the Fleet we were thirteen days out.
The Captains they all came aboard quick enough,
But the news that they brought was as heavy as duff;
So backward an enemy never was seen,
They were harder to come at than Cheeks the Marine.
The lubbers had hare's lugs where seamen have ears,
So we stowed all saluting and smothered our cheers,
And to humour their stomachs and tempt them to dine,
In the offing we showed them but six of the line.
One morning the topmen reported below
The old Agamemnon escaped from the foe.
Says Nelson: "My lads, there'll be honour for some,
For we're sure of a battle now Berry has come."
"Up hammocks!" at last cried the bo'sun at dawn;
The guns were cast loose and the tompions drawn;
The gunner was bustling the shot racks to fill,
And "All hands to quarters!" was piped with a will.
We now saw the enemy bearing ahead,
And to East of them Cape Traflagar it was said,
'Tis a name we remember from father to son,
That the days of old England may never be done.
The Victory led, to her flag it was due,
Tho' the T'm'raires thought themselves Admirals too;
But Lord Nelson he hailed them with masterful grace:
"Cap'n Harvey, I'll thank you to keep in your place."
To begin with we closed the Bucentaure alone,
An eighty-gun ship and their Admiral's own;
We raked her but once, and the rest of the day
Like a hospital hulk on the water she lay.
To our battering next the Redoutable struck,
But her sharpshooters gave us the worst of the luck:
Lord Nelson was wounded, most cruel to tell.
"They've done for me; Hardy!" he cried as he fell.
To the cockpit in silence they carried him past,
And sad were the looks that were after him cast;
His face with a kerchief he tried to conceal,
But we knew him too well from the truck to the keel.
When the Captain reported a victory won,
"Thank God!" he kept saying, "my duty I've done."
At last came the moment to kiss him good-bye,
And the Captain for once had the salt in his eye.
"Now anchor, dear Hardy," the Admiral cried;
But before we could make it he fainted and died.
All night in the trough of the sea we were tossed,
And for want of ground-tackle good prizes were lost.
Then we hauled down the flag, at the fore it was red,
And blue at the mizzen was hoisted instead
By Nelson's famed Captain, the pride of each tar,
Who fought in the Victory off Cape Traflagar.
Of Her who Died.
by Hattie Howard

We look up to the stars tonight,
Idolatrous of them,
And dream that Heaven is in sight,
And each a ray of purest light
From some celestial gem
In her bright diadem.
Before that lonely home we wait,
Ah! nevermore to see
Her lovely form within the gate
Where heart and hearthstone desolate
And vine and shrub and tree
Seem asking: "Where is she?"
There is the cottage Love had planned - 
Where hope in ashes lies - 
A tower beautiful to stand,
Her monument whose gentle hand
And presence in the skies
Make home of Paradise.
In wintry bleakness nature glows
Beneath the stellar ray;
We see the mold, but not the rose,
And meditate if knowledge goes
Into yon mound of clay,
With her who passed away.
Of sighs, and tears, and joys denied
Do echoes reach up there?
Do seraphs know - God does - how wide
And deep is sorrow's bitter tide
Of dolor and despair,
And darkness everywhere?
Dear angel, snatched from our caress,
So suddenly withdrawn,
Alone are we and comfortless;
As in a dome of emptiness
The old routine goes on,
Aimless, since thou art gone.
Oh, dearer unto us than aught
In all the world beside
Of thee to cherish blessed thought;
So early thy sweet mission wrought,
As friend, as promised bride,
Who lived, and loved, and died.
The Trio.
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

We love but once. The great gold orb of light
From dawn to even-tide doth cast his ray;
But the full splendor of his perfect might
Is reached but once throughout the livelong day.
We love but once. The waves, with ceaseless motion,
Do day and night plash on the pebbled shore;
But the strong tide of the resistless ocean
Sweeps in but one hour of the twenty-four.
We love but once. A score of times, perchance,
We may be moved in fancy's fleeting fashion - 
May treasure up a word, a tone, a glance;
But only once we feel the soul's great passion.
We love but once. Love walks with death and birth
(The saddest, the unkindest of the three);
And only once while we sojourn on earth
Can that strange trio come to you or me.
A Mate Can Do No Wrong
by Henry Lawson

We learnt the creed at Hungerford,
We learnt the creed at Bourke;
We learnt it in the good times
And learnt it out of work.
We learnt it by the harbour-side
And on the billabong:
"No matter what a mate may do,
A mate can do no wrong!"
He's like a king in this respect
(No matter what they do),
And, king-like, shares in storm and shine
The Throne of Life with you.
We learnt it when we were in gaol
And put it in a song:
"No matter what a mate may do,
A mate can do no wrong!"
They'll say he said a bitter word
When he's away or dead.
We're loyal to his memory,
No matter what he said.
And we should never hesitate,
But strike out good and strong,
And jolt the slanderer on the jaw,
A mate can do no wrong!
The Rose
by Henry Lawson

We love the land when the world goes round,
And deep, deep down in her thorny ground,
Where nobody comes, and nobody knows,
We love the Rose. Oh! we love the Rose.
And none to tell us, and none to teach
By the western hedge or the shelving beach,
But all of us know what everyone knows,
We love the Rose. Oh! we love the Rose.
We love the rose when our day is dead,
And they lay their roses upon our bed;
Too late! Too late! in our last repose!
But we love the Rose. Ah! we love the Rose.