OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Union Cruiser

* related portals: Song lyrics.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
An Irish unionist anti Irish home rule ballad written during the early 20th-century. The ballad's name refers to the ship used in the Larne gun-running. Set to the tune of The Yellow Rose of Texas.
1. Far across the stormy ocean in our happy Northern home, Where our country men are arming to resist the wiles of Rome, I can see the Union Cruiser in the harbour of Belfast, And the Orange flag of Liberty is floating on her mast.
2. Every city, town and village in our happy Northern coast, Is preparing to defend itself against the Redmond hosts, From the shores of Carrickfergus to the margins of Lough Neagh, There’s a hundred thousand Orangemen preparing for the fray.
3. Magherafelt and Castledawson, Maghera and Tobermore, Are as eager for the conflict as they were in days of yore, Culnady and the Tamlaght boys still loyal to the throne, Are responding to the battle cry that comes from Portglenone.
4. The fighting men of Garvagh and the Sprigs of old Kilrea, With their armour brightly burnished and their flags and banners gay, Send a ringing call to arms rolling o’er our native hills, That was heard at Ballymoney, Aghadowey and Bushmills.
5. Every loyal heart is throbbing in the town of stout Coleraine, Where the men of proven value are assembled on the plains, Cool courageous, self reliance from the lips of everyman, Brings a cheer of bold defiance rolling o’er the river Bann.
6. From the crest of Keady mountains I can see the bayonets gleam, Hear the roll of martial music in the valley, winding stream, Where the loyal Limavady men that never feared a foe, Are resting on their arms in the valley of the Roe.
7. In the streets of Londonderry there’s a grand inspiring scene, Where our ‘prentice boys are arming to defend our Maiden Queen, And our walls are stoutly guarded by defenders of the soil, And their cry of ‘No Surrender’ echo’s o’er the river Foyle.
8. You Loyal Sons of Ulster who have of your valour shown, On the crimson field of battle as defenders of the throne, Put your trust in God above, be courageous calm and cool, And the North bid bold defiance to John Redmond and Home Rule.
This work is anonymous or pseudonymous, and is in the public domain in the United States because it was first published outside the United States (and not published in the U.S. within 30 days), and it was first published before 1989 without complying with U.S. copyright formalities (renewal and/or copyright notice) and it was in the public domain in its home country on the URAA date (January 1, 1996 for most countries).
This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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# The United Irishmen

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The United Irishmen."
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* The United Irishmen, a poem by John Edward Pigot
* Lives of the United Irishmen, regularly referred to as "The United Irishmen", a work by Richard Robert Madden
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/To My Brothers

TO MY BROTHERS
Though the poem is thus headed in the 1817 volume, where it is dated November 18, 1816, it might as properly have the heading given it in Tom Keats's copybook: 'Written to his Brother Tom on his Birthday,' with the same date.
Small, busy flames play through the fresh-laid coals, And their faint cracklings o'er our silence creep Like whispers of the household gods that keep A gentle empire o'er fraternal souls. And while, for rhymes, I search around the poles, Your eyes are fix'd, as in poetic sleep, Upon the lore so voluble and deep, That aye at fall of night our care condoles. This is your birth-day, Tom, and I rejoice That thus it passes smoothly, quietly: Many such eves of gently whisp'ring noise May we together pass, and calmly try What are this world's true joys,—ere the great Voice, From its fair face, shall bid our spirits fly.
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/To Leigh Hunt, Esq.

TO LEIGH HUNT, ESQ.
This stood as dedication to the 1817 volume, which was published in the month of March. Charles Cowden Clarke makes the statement: 'On the evening when the last proof sheet was brought from the printer, it was accompanied by the information that if a "dedication to the book was intended, it must be sent forthwith." Whereupon he withdrew to a side table, and in the buzz of a mixed conversation (for there were several friends in the room) he composed and brought to Charles Ollier, the publisher, the dedication sonnet to Leigh Hunt.'
Glory and loveliness have pass'd away; For if we wander out in early morn, No wreathèd incense do we see upborne Into the east, to meet the smiling day: No crowd of nymphs soft-voic'd and young, and gay, In woven baskets bringing ears of corn, Roses, and pinks, and violets, to adorn The shrine of Flora in her early May. But there are left delights as high as these, And I shall ever bless my destiny, That in a time, when under pleasant trees Pan is no longer sought, I feel a free, A leafy luxury, seeing I could please With these poor offerings, a man like thee.
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/To Spenser

TO SPENSER
Printed in Life, Letters and Literary Remains, and undated. Afterward, when Lord Houghton printed it in the Aldine edition of 1876, he noted that he had seen a transcript given by Keats to Mrs. Longmore, a sister of Reynolds, dated by the recipient, February 5, 1818. But Lord Houghton is confident that the sonnet was written much earlier.
Spenser! a jealous honourer of thine, A forester deep in thy midmost trees, Did last eve ask my promise to refine Some English that might strive thine ear to please. But Elfin Poet, 't is impossible For an inhabitant of wintry earth To rise like Phœbus with a golden quill Fire-wing'd and make a morning in his mirth. It is impossible to escape from toil O' the sudden and receive thy spiriting: The flower must drink the nature of the soil Before it can put forth its blossoming: Be with me in the summer days, and I Will for thine honour and his pleasure try.
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/To a Cat

To a Cat
These verses were addressed by Keats to a cat belonging to Mrs. Reynolds of Little Britain, the mother of his friend John Hamilton Reynolds. Mrs. Reynolds gave the verses to her son-in-law, Tom Hood, who published them in his Comic Annual for 1830.
Cat! who has[t] pass'd thy grand clima[c]teric, How many mice and rats hast in thy days Destroy'd?—How many tit-bits stolen? Gaze With those bright languid segments green, and prick Those velvet ears—but pr'ythee do not stick Thy latent talons in me—and upraise Thy gentle mew—and tell me all thy frays Of fish and mice, and rats and tender chick: Nay, look not down, nor lick thy dainty wrists For all the wheezy asthma,—and for all Thy tail's tip is nick'd off—and though the fists Of many a maid has given thee many a maul, Still is that fur as soft as when the lists In youth thou enter'dst on glass-bottled wall.
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/To a Friend who sent me Some Roses

TO A FRIEND WHO SENT ME SOME ROSES
The friend was Charles J. Wells, author of the dramatic poem Joseph and his Brethren, which was published in 1824, when it died almost at once and was recalled to life by a few words printed by D. G. Rossetti in 1863, and has since been reprinted for the curious. In Tom Keats's copy book the sonnet is dated 29 June, 1816. It is included in the volume of 1817.
As late I rambled in the happy fields, What time the skylark shakes the tremulous dew From his lush clover covert;—when anew Adventurous knights take up their dinted shields: I saw the sweetest flower wild nature yields, A fresh-blown musk-rose; 't was the first that threw Its sweets upon the summer: graceful it grew As is the wand that Queen Titania wields. And, as I feasted on its fragrancy, I thought the garden-rose it far excell'd: But when, O Wells! thy roses came to me, My sense with their deliciousness was spell'd: Soft voices had they, that with tender plea Whisper'd of peace, and truth, and friendliness unquell'd.
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/To Sleep

TO SLEEP
O soft embalmer of the still midnight, Shutting, with careful fingers and benign, Our gloom-pleased eyes, embower'd from the light, Enshaded in forgetfulness divine: O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close, In midst of this thine hymn, my willing eyes, Or wait the amen, ere thy poppy throws Around my bed its dewy charities; Then save me, or the passed day will shine Upon my pillow, breeding many woes; Save me from curious conscience, that still lords Its strength for darkness, burrowing like a mole; Turn the key deftly in the oiled wards, And seal the hushed casket of my soul.
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/To Some Ladies

TO SOME LADIES
This and the poem following were included in the 1817 volume. George Keats says further that it was 'written on receiving a copy of Tom Moore's "Golden Chain" and a most beautiful Dome shaped shell from a Lady.' The exact title of Moore's poem is 'The Wreath and the Chain,' and it will be readily seen how expressly imitative these lines are of Moore's verse in general. The poems are not dated, but they are the first in a group stated by Keats to have been 'written at an earlier period than the rest of the Poems;' it is safe to assume that they belong very near the beginning of Keats's poetical career. It is quite likely that they were included in the volume a few years later on personal grounds.
What though while the wonders of nature exploring, I cannot your light, mazy footsteps attend; Nor listen to accents, that almost adoring, Bless Cynthia's face, the enthusiast's friend:
Yet over the steep, whence the mountain-stream rushes, With you, kindest friends, in idea I rove; Mark the clear tumbling crystal, its passionate gushes, Its spray that the wild flower kindly bedews.
Why linger you so, the wild labyrinth strolling? Why breathless, unable your bliss to declare? Ah! you list to the nightingale's tender condoling, Responsive to sylphs, in the moon-beamy air.
​'T is morn, and the flowers with dew are yet drooping, I see you are treading the verge of the sea: And now! ah, I see it—you just now are stooping To pick up the keepsake intended for me.
If a cherub, on pinions of silver descending, Had brought me a gem from the fretwork of heaven; And smiles, with his star-cheering voice sweetly blending, The blessings of Tighe had melodiously given;
It had not created a warmer emotion Than the present, fair nymphs, I was blest with from you; Than the shell, from the bright golden sands of the ocean, Which the emerald waves at your feet gladly threw.
For, indeed, 't is a sweet and peculiar pleasure, (And blissful is he who such happiness finds,) To possess but a span of the hour of leisure, In elegant, pure, and aerial minds.
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/To Thomas Keats

To Thomas Keats
Belantree (for Ballantrae) July 10 [1818.]
Ah! ken ye what I met the day Out oure the Mountains A coming down by craggies gray An mossie fountains— Ah goud-hair'd Marie yeve I pray Ane minute's guessing— For that I met upon the way Is past expressing. As I stood where a rocky brig A torrent crosses I spied upon a misty rig A troup o' Horses— And as they trotted down the glen I sped to meet them To see if I might know the Men To stop and greet them. First Willie on his sleek mare came At canting gallop His long hair rustled like a flame On board a shallop, Then came his brother Rab and then Young Peggy's Mither And Peggy too—adown the glen They went togither— I saw her wrappit in her hood Frae wind and raining— Her cheek was flush wi' timid blood Twixt growth and waning— She turn'd her dazed eyes full oft For there her Brithers Came riding with her Bridegroom soft And mony ithers. Young Tam came up and eyed me quick With reddened cheek— Braw Tom was daffed like a chick— He couldna speak— Ah, Marie, they are all gane hame Through blustering weather An' every heart is full on flame An' light as feather. Ah! Marie, they are all gone hame Frae happy wadding, Whilst I—Ah is it not a shame? Sad tears am shedding.
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/To John Hamilton Reynolds

TO JOHN HAMILTON REYNOLDS
Undated, but placed by Lord Houghton directly after the preceding in Life, Letters and Literary Remains.
O that a week could be an age, and we Felt parting and warm meeting every week; Then one poor year a thousand years would be, The flush of welcome ever on the cheek: So could we live long life in little space, So time itself would be annihilate, So a day's journey in oblivious haze To serve our joys would lengthen and dilate. O to arrive each Monday morn from Ind! To land each Tuesday from the rich Levant! In little time a host of joys to bind, And keep our souls in one eternal pant! This morn, my friend, and yester-evening taught Me how to harbor such a happy thought.
# The complete poetical works and letters of John Keats/To Kosciusko

TO KOSCIUSKO
First published in The Examiner, where it is dated 'Dec., 1816.' It is included in the 1817 volume.
Good Kosciusko, thy great name alone Is a full harvest whence to reap high feeling; It comes upon us like the glorious pealing Of the wide spheres—an everlasting tone. And now it tells me, that in worlds unknown, The names of heroes, burst from clouds concealing, Are changed to harmonies, for ever stealing Through cloudless blue, and round each silver throne. It tells me too, that on a happy day, When some good spirit walks upon the earth, Thy name with Alfred's, and the great of yore, Gently commingling, gives tremendous birth To a loud hymn, that sounds far, far away To where the great God lives for evermore.
# The Works of H. G. Wells (Atlantic Edition)/The Door in the Wall
## Contents

* Section I
* Section II
* Section III
* Section IV
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1946, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 77 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Works of H. G. Wells (Atlantic Edition)/The Door in the Wall/IV
## IV.

I can see now his rather pallid face, and the unfamiliar sombre fire that had come into his eyes. I see him very vividly to-night. I sit recalling his words, his tones, and last evening's Westminster Gazette still lies on my sofa, containing the notice of his death. At lunch to-day the club was busy with his death. We talked of nothing else.
They found his body very early yesterday morning in a deep excavation near East Kensington Station. It is one of two shafts that have been made in connection with an extension of the railway southward. It is protected from the intrusion of the public by a hoarding upon the high road, in which a small doorway has been cut for the convenience of some of the workmen who live in that direction. The doorway was left unfastened through a misunderstanding between two gangers, and through it he made his way...
My mind is darkened with questions and riddles.
It would seem he walked all the way from the House that night--he has frequently walked home during the past Session--and so it is I figure his dark form coming along the late and empty streets, wrapped up, intent. And then did the pale electric lights near the station cheat the rough planking into a semblance of white? Did that fatal unfastened door awaken some memory?
Was there, after all, ever any green door in the wall at all?
I do not know. I have told his story as he told it to me. There are times when I believe that Wallace was no more than the victim of the coincidence between a rare but not unprecedented type of hallucination and a careless trap, but that indeed is not my profoundest belief. You may think me superstitious, if you will, and foolish; but, indeed, I am more than half convinced that he had, in truth, an abnormal gift, and a sense, something--I know not what---that in the guise of wall and door offered him an outlet, a secret and peculiar passage of escape into another and altogether more beautiful world. At any rate, you will say, it betrayed him in the end. But did it betray him? There you touch the inmost mystery of these dreamers, these men of vision and the imagination. We see our world fair and common, the hoarding and the pit. By our daylight standard he walked out of security into darkness, danger, and death.
But did he see like that?
# The Works of H. G. Wells (Atlantic Edition)/The Euphemia Papers

THE EUPHEMIA PAPERS
THE EUPHEMIA PAPERS
Layout 2
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1946, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 77 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# To 'Holy' Russia

First published in Workers' Dreadnought , 28 February 1920
* To 'Holy' Russia
* Long struggling under the Imperial heel,
* Some dared not see the white flame of your star
* Dimmed by the loathsome shadow of your Tsar.
* But men who clung to sacred dreams could feel
* Some day you would put forth your arm of steel
* And drag the mannikins from near and far,
* Before the mighty people's judgment bar,
* To answer for the ruined commonweal . . . .
* Down from their high, dishonoured place you hurled
* The cowed, incompetent, corrupted few;
* The blood-bathed flag of a new life unfurled,
* Revealed your soul to Slav and Jew:
* The eyes of the too-long submissive world,
* Lifted in golden hope, are turned to you!
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1948, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 75 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# To "Bronco Buster" Flynn

* related authors: Elizabeth Gurley Flynn.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
Handwritten letter by Joe Hill with song lyrics about and addressed to Elizabeth Gurley Flynn's son, Fred Flynn.
To "Bronco Buster" Flynn —————— ◦ ——————
Tune: "Yankee Doodle"
I
I got your picture Buster dear A-riding on a pony Your pony is a real one too.— You wouldn't have a "phoney"
— Chorus —
Buster Flynn he sure is game His eyes are full of luster, I think we'd better change his name And call him "Bronco Buster"
II
When you grow up to be a man Be always "rough and ready" But never brag about it though Like windy "Bull moose Teddy"
III
And by and by you'll ride out West Like Cow-boys that you've read off But don't fall off your pony dear And break your little head off.
From Your Friend Joe Hill. With a Kind Greeting.
To Buster Flynn 511 E. 134th str. New York City N.Y.
This work is from the United States and in the public domain because it was not legally published with the permission of the copyright holder before January 1, 2003 and the author died 109 years ago. This is a posthumous work and its copyright in certain countries and areas may depend on years since posthumous publication, rather than years since the author's death. Translations or editions published later may be copyrighted.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1915, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 108 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# To ------ (Brontë)

I will not mourn thee, lovely one, Though thou art torn away. 'Tis said that if the morning sun Arise with dazzling ray And shed a bright and burning beam Athwart the glittering main, 'Ere noon shall fade that laughing gleam Engulfed in clouds and rain.
And if thy life as transient proved, It hath been full as bright, For thou wert hopeful and beloved; Thy spirit knew no blight.
If few and short the joys of life That thou on earth couldst know, Little thou knew'st of sin and strife Nor much of pain and woe.
If vain thy earthly hopes did prove, Thou canst not mourn their flight; Thy brightest hopes were fixed above And they shall know no blight.
And yet I cannot check my sighs, Thou wert so young and fair, More bright than summer morning skies, But stern death would not spare;
He would not pass our darling by Nor grant one hour's delay, But rudely closed his shining eye And frowned his smile away,
That angel smile that late so much Could my fond heart rejoice; And he has silenced by his touch The music of thy voice.
I'll weep no more thine early doom, But O! I still must mourn The pleasures buried in thy tomb, For they will not return.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/O'Neill, Rt. Hon. R. W. Hugh

Robert William Hugh O'Neill
​O'NEILL, Rt. Hon. R. W. Hugh, P.C. (Ireland), 1921; only surviving son of Edward, 2nd Baron O'Neill. Educ. at Eton and New College, Oxford; m. 1909, Sylvia, dau. of Walter A. Sanderman, of Morden House, Royston, Herts, and has issue three sons; Barrister (Inner Temple), 1909; served in the Great War in Royal Irish Rifles, and as Deputy Judge Advocate-General in Palestine with rank of Major; unsuccessfully contested Stockport (C), 1906; elected M.P. for Mid-Antrim (Imperial Parliament), in 1915, and again in 1918; M.P. (Northern Ireland) for Co. Antrim, 1921: first Speaker of the House of Commons of Northern Ireland, 1921; Pro-Chancellor of Queen's University, Belfast, 1922. Recns.: shooting, fishing. Res.: Thornhill, Malone Road, Belfast. Clubs: Carlton, Ulster (Belfast).
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/O'Nolan, Rev. Gerald

Gearóid Ó Nualláin
​O'NOLAN, Rev. Gerald, M.A., B.D.; Professor of Irish at Maynooth College since 1909; Headmaster of Ballingeary Irish College; Author of Studies in Modern Irish. Res.: St. Patrick's College, Maynooth, Co. Kildare.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/O'Neill, Right Hon. Laurence

​O'NEILL, Right Hon. Laurence (M.P. for Mid Div. of Dublin City from 1922), Lord Mayor of Dublin from 1916 to 1923.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/O'Neill, Rev. Patrick

​O'NEILL, Rev. Patrick, D.D.. D.C.L. Educ. at Maynooth: Canon Law at the Roman College; ordained Priest of the diocese of Limerick, 1917; Professor of Theology at Maynooth since 1920; appointed to Second Chair of Canon Law at Maynooth, 1921. Res.: St. Patrick's College, Maynooth, Co. Kildare.
# Thom's Irish Who's Who/O'Neill-Power, Captain John Joseph

duplicate of Power, John Joseph O'Neill
​O'NEILL-POWER, Captain John Joseph, J.P. for Cos. Waterford and Kilkenny. Educ. at Beaumont; Hon. Lieut, in the Army, 1900; Captain Waterford Artillery Militia, 1900; Capt. R.F.A. Res. 1901-10; was Master of Fox Hounds, 1901-03. Recns.: polo, motoring, hunting; son of late Joseph O'Neill-Power, D.L., J.P.; of Power Hall, Waterford, and Jane, dau. of Sir J. Ennis, Bart.; b. 1879. Res.: Power Hall, Show Hill, Waterford; Kildare Street Club, Dublin.