OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# At a Meeting of Friends

August 29, 1859 [The occasion was the fiftieth birthday of Dr. Holmes.]
I remember — why, yes! God bless me! and was it so long ago? I fear I'm growing forgetful, as old folks do, you know; It must have been in 'forty — I would say 'thirty-nine — We talked this matter over, I and a friend of mine.
He said, "Well now, old fellow, I'm thinking that you and I, If we act like other people, shall be older by and by; What though the bright blue ocean is smooth as a pond can be, There is always a line of breakers to fringe the broadest sea.
"We're taking it mighty easy, but that is nothing strange, For up to the age of thirty we spend our years like change; But creeping up towards the forties, as fast as the old years fill, And Time steps in for payment, we seem to change a bill."
"I know it," I said, "old fellow; you speak the solemn truth; A man can't live to a hundred and likewise keep his youth; But what if the ten years coming shall silver-streak my hair, You know I shall then be forty; of course I shall not care.
"At forty a man grows heavy and tired of fun and noise; Leaves dress to the five-and-twenties and love to the silly boys; No foppish tricks at forty, no pinching of waists and toes, But high-low shoes and flannels and good thick worsted hose."
But one fine August morning I found myself awake: My birthday: — By Jove, I'm forty! Yes forty and no mistake! Why, this is the very milestone, I think I used to hold, That when a fellow had come to, a fellow would then be old!
But that is the young folks' nonsense; they're full of their foolish stuff; A man's in his prime at forty, — I see that plain enough; At fifty a man is wrinkled, and may be bald or gray; I call men old at fifty, in spite of all they say.
At last comes another August with mist and rain and shine; Its mornings are slowly counted and creep to twenty-nine, And when on the western summits the fading light appears, It touches with rosy fingers the last of my fifty years.
There have been both men and women whose hearts were firm and bold, But there never was one of fifty that loved to say "I'm old;" So any elderly person that strives to shirk his years, Make him stand up at a table and try him by his peers.
Now here I stand at fifty, my jury gathered round; Sprinkled with dust of silver, but not yet silver-crowned, Ready to meet your verdict, waiting to hear it told; Guilty of fifty summers; speak! Is the verdict old?
No! say that his hearing fails him; say that his sight grows dim; Say that he's getting wrinkled and weak in back and limb, Losing his wits and temper, but pleading, to make amends, The youth of his fifty summers he finds in his twenty friends.
# At The Bazaar

Sent in a letter to his friend Tevis Clyde Smith around March 1929. First published in The Last of the Trunk Och Brev I Urval, 2007.
There breaks in the bazaar of Zanzibar,  red surge of life on life; At eve there came through the sunset's flame  a man with a dripping knife. "Eunuchs a score and seven more  I've made today," said he, "The blood and tears of all my years  I've caused would fill a sea. "Search far, search far from Zanzibar  for youths of many lands "For my hungry steel and the glee I feel  when they writhe beneath my hand He laid him down where the stains lay brown  on the floor of the gelding room, And his gory blade as it down was laid  clanged like a tone of doom. In sleep he leered and clawed his beard  with fingers black with gore; The ghosts of dead men came from Hell  and staked him to the floor.
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 more than 70 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.
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
# At Valley Forge

We stand today on ground hallowed by the unspeakable suffering of as true a band of patriots as ever lived. We are assembled here to pay tardy tribute to the deeds of the portion of the brave men who made us free. The story of Valley Forge is one of the most heroic and beyond all question the most pathetic chapter in the history of the American army. It required more courage and fortitude to freeze and starve in the [encampments here] during the awful winter of 1777 and 1778, than it did to charge the British regulars in the open field, or to assault them in the redoubts of Yorktown. Here in the winter of discontent, our fortunes sank to the lowest point. But from this place, Washington went forth conquering, and to conquer, and to become the foremost man of all the world.
By one of those strange accidents which puzzled even the philosophers, one of the best and most appreciative histories of the American Revolution ever written is by Sir George Otto Trevelyan, an Englishman, the nephew and biographer of Lord McCawlay. Describing Washington's encampment here he says: "That little village, Valley Forge, clustered at the bottom of a deep ravine, gave a name to what, as time goes on, did [aspire] to be the most celebrated encampment in the world's history." His prophecy has come true. It is the most famous encampment on the surface of the globe.
It is said that republics are ungrateful, but by erecting this magnificent memorial arch to Washington and his soldiers, the Congress demonstrates to all the world that we hold in most grateful recollection the men who suffered and died here one hundred and thirty-nine years ago in order that our feeble, infant republic might live. How amazingly she has grown -- God be praised. Grown from a narrow strip along the Atlantic to continental proportions. Grown from being the weakest among the nations into the richest and most powerful. The free institutions which have enabled us to grow into what we are, we owe to Washington and the patriots of '76. The spirit which animated them animates their descendants today wherever old glory floats. They created this mighty republic. Our most solemn duty, our profoundest pleasure, our highest ambition, is to serve it faithfully and to transmit it unimpaired to our children and our children's children to the remotest generations.
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
# At a Calvary near the Ancre

One ever hangs where shelled roads part. In this war He too lost a limb, But His disciples hide apart; And now the Soldiers bear with Him.
Near Golgotha strolls many a priest, And in their faces there is pride That they were flesh-marked by the Beast By whom the gentle Christ's denied.
The scribes on all the people shove And bawl allegiance to the state, But they who love the greater love Lay down their life; they do not hate.
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
# At The Sarah-Bernhardt Theatre

"Nothing that man's creative mind hath wrought"
* Coates, Florence Earle (1901), "At The Sarah-Bernhardt Theatre" in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine (March 1901).
* Coates, Florence Earle (1904), "At The Sarah-Bernhardt Theatre" in Mine and Thine (1904).
* Coates, Florence Earle (1916), "At The Sarah-Bernhardt Theatre" in Poems II.

## References

* ↑ View this version at Google Books.
# At a Birthday Festival

* information about this edition.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
to J. R. Lowell February 22, 1859
We will not speak of years to-night,—  For what have years to bring But larger floods of love and light,  And sweeter songs to sing?
We will not drown in wordy praise  The kindly thoughts that rise; If Friendship own one tender phrase,  He reads it in our eyes.
We need not waste our school-boy art  To gild this notch of Time;— Forgive me if my wayward heart  Has throbbed in artless rhyme.
Enough for him the silent grasp  That knits us hand in hand, And he the bracelet's radiant clasp  That locks our circling band.
Strength to his hours of many toil!  Peace to his starlit dreams! Who loves alike the furrowed soil,  The music-haunted streams!
Sweet smiles to keep forever bright  The sunshine on his lips, And faith that sees the ring of light  Round nature's last eclipse!
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
# At Verona

* "At Verona" in The Writings of Oscar Wilde (1907)
* "At Verona" in The Poems of Oscar Wilde (1909)
# Ben King's Verse/The Blackbird and the Thrush

"It's my idee," a blackbird said,
 As he sat in a mulberry bush,
"It's my idee, it seems to me,
 I can warble as well as a thrush."
"Let 'er go, let 'er go," said a carrion crow,
 As he swung on an old clothesline,
"For I won't budge, but I'll act as judge,
 And the winner I'll ask to dine."
In a minor key the thrush sang he, .  'Way up in an elm remote,
And twice and thrice like paradise
 Songs welled from the warbler's throat.
  Then a rooster he, in his usual glee,
 Flew up on the barnyard fence,
And he crowed and he crowed; then he said :
 "I'll be blowed
If that isn't simply immense."
Then the blackbird, well, he listened a spell
 And began in garrulous run,
But he wasn't admired, for a farmer tired—
 Well, he up and fired a gun.
Then the black crow said, as he rested his head:
 "I want to go somewhere and die."
And a young cock-a-too said: "I do, too,"
 And a parrot said : "So do I."
# Ben King's Verse/The Girl With the Jersey

You can sing of the maid Who, in faultless attire, Rides out in her curtained coupé; Her robes are exquisitely fashioned by Worth-- At eve they are décolleté; But I, I will sing of a maiden more fair, More innocent, too, I opine; You can choose from society's crust, if you will, But the girl with the jersey is mine.
I know her by all that is good, kind and true, This modest young maiden I name; I've walked with her, talked with her, Danced with her, too, And found that my heart was aflame; I've written her letters, and small billet-doux, Reavealing my love in each line: You can drink to your slim, satin-bodiced gazelle, But the girl with the jersey is mine.
# Ben King's Verse/The Mermaid

Sweet mermaid of the incomparable eyes, Surpassing glimpses of the April skies. Thy form, ah, maid of the billowy deep! So rare and fair, but to possess I'd creep Where the old octopus deep in his briny haunts Comes forth to feed on anything he wants; Where mollusks crawl and cuttlefish entwine, There on crustaceans be content to dine. What ecstacies in some calcareous valley, Had I but scales like thee 'tis there we'd dally, There seek each peak and let no other bliss Be more enchanting than one salt-sea kiss; There sit and bask in love, and sigh, and feel Each other's fins throb, or perhaps we'd steal To some lone cavern. I suppose you know a Place where we could pluck the polyzoa, Or in your boudoir by your mirror there I'd comb the seaweed from your auburn hair. But hush! A red-haired mermaid sister comes this  way, And lashing with her tail the wavelets into sray. Cometh she alone o'er yonder watery pampas? Oh, no. By Jove! There comes the white hippo-  campus.
# Ben King's Verse/That Valentine

Once, I remember, years ago,  I sent a tender valentine; I know it caused a deal of woe. Once, I remember, years ago, Her father's boots were large, you know.  I do regret the hasty line, Once, I remember, years ago  I sent a tender valentine.
I know I never can forget  I sent the tender valentine; Somehow or other I regret, But how I never can forget, But then, I know, I know I met  Her father. Oh, what grief was mine. I know I never shall forget  I sent a tender valentine.
# Ben King's Verse/The Chautauquan Maid

She had studied every ology--  Ichthyology, zoölogy, Philology, geology, conchology, and more;  Knew the bones of every mammal,  From the mouse up to the camel, And the mollusks and crustaceans that crept on  shore.
 To think her up in history  Was not at all a mystery; She could name you any ruler from old England to  Sumatra.  It would certainly amaze you  What she said about Aspasia And the little unsophisticated maiden, Cleopatra.
 She had studied Greek and Latin,  Hebrew, Sanscrit (please put that in); Read Xenophon and Horace, Ovid, Virgil and the  rest.  She didn't say, "I'll learn yuh,"  But "teach you" that Calphurnia Sewed fifty-seven button holes in Julius Cæsar's vest.
 She loved to pull the petals  From a flower. The baser metals, She doted on their study, and for nuggets she would  bone you.  She loved the dromedary,  And the docile cassowary, And the feathers of the emu she had stuck in her  "chiffonier."
 She had studied evolution,  And arrived at the solution How long our first appendage was; of course, I  didn't ask her,  But she said that she'd resolved from  What she knew, that I evolved from A carrot-haired chimpanzee she had seen in Mada-  gascar.
 She could scan iambic meter,  And she knew each Roman prætor, And surprised me when she told the way the empire  came to fall.  The Huns sneaked in the forum,  And the Romans tried to floor 'em, But they got themselves in trouble, and, or course,  got whipped, by Gaul.
# Ben King's Verse/The Hair-Tonic Bottle

How dear to my heart is the old village drugstore,  When tired and thirsty it comes to my view. The wide-spreading sign that asks you to "Try it,"  Vim, Vaseline, Vermifuge, Hop Bitters, too. The old rusty stove and the cuspidor by it,  That little back room. Oh! you've been there yourself, And ofttimes have gone for the doctor's prescription,  But tackled the bottle that stood on the shelf.  The friendly old bottle,  The plain-labeled bottle, The "Hair-Tonic" bottle that stood on the shelf.
How oft have I seized it with hands that were glowing,  And guzzled awhile ere I set off for home; I owned the whole earth all that night, but next morning  My head felt as big as the Capitol's dome. And then how I hurried away to receive it,  The druggist would smile o'er his poisonous pelf, And laugh as he poured out his unlicensed bitters,  And filled up the bottle that stood on the shelf.  The unlicensed bottle,  The plain-labeled bottle, That "Hair-Tonic" bottle that stood on the shelf.
# Ben King's Verse/The Cat O' Nine Tails

The old cat o' nine tails is comin' 'round agin,
And the way he worries children sometimes is
 a sin ;
He grabs 'em by the collar, an' he yanks 'em by the
 clothes
And reaches for a tender place. Why, what do you
 suppose
Will happen if you're impident an' set aroun' an'
 grin?
Well, I'll have to call the cat o' nine tails in—
Have to call him in; yes, have to call him in;
 in.  tails  cat o' nine
 old
I'll have to call the old cat o' nine tails in.
 old
 cat o' nine
 tails
 in.
Are you sassy to yer father, are you fibbin' to yer
 mother ?
Are you quarrelin' with yer sister an' a-pinchin' of
 yer brother,
Do you "ring around the rosey" till you have a dizzy
 feelin',
And you think yer goin' 'roun' an' 'roun' an' walkin'
 on the ceilin'?
Well, you better stop yer screechin' an' a-makin' such
 a din,
Er I'll have to call the old cat o' nine tails in—
Have to call him in; yes, have to call him in;  in.  tails  cat o' nine
 old
I'll have to call the old cat o' nine tails in.
 old
 cat o' nine
 tails
 in.
Do you allers mind your manners when company is
 come?
Er do you git upstairs 'nd yell, 'nd stomp around 'nd
 drum?
Do you show off at the table, too, 'nd try to act up
 smart, 'N p'int yer fingers' at the things 'nd say : " Gimme
 a tart?"
If some one doesn't dress you down I think it is a
 sin;
So I'11 have to call the old cat o' nine tails in—
Have to call 'im in ; yes, have to call 'im in ;
 in.  tails  cat o' nine
 old
I'll have to call the old cat o' nine tails in.
 old
 cat o' nine
 tails
 in.
# Ben King's Verse/The Cow Slips Away

The tall pines pine,  The pawpaws pause, And the bumble-bee bumbles all day;  The eavesdropper drops,  And the grasshopper hops, While gently the cow slips away.
# Ben King's Verse/The Flowers' Ball

There is an olden story,  'Tis a legend, so I'm told, How the flowers gave a banquet,  In the ivied days of old; How the posies gave a party once  That wound up with a ball, How they held it in a valley,  Down in "Flowery Kingdom Hall."
The flowers of every clime were there,  Of high and low degree, All with their petals polished,  In sweet aromatic glee. They met down in this woodland  In the soft and ambient air, Each in its lolling loveliness,  Exhaled a perfume rare.
An orchestra of Blue Bells  Sat upon a mossy knoll And pealed forth gentle music  That quite captured every soul. The Holly hocked a pistil  Just to buy a suit of clothes, And danced with all the flowerets  But the modest, blushing Rose.
The Morning Glory shining  Seemed reflecting all the glow Of dawn, and took a partner;  It was young Miss Mistletoe. Miss Maggie Nolia from the South  Danced with Forget-me-not; Sweet William took Miss Pink in tow  And danced a slow gavotte.
Thus everything went swimmingly  'Mongst perfumed belles and beaux, And every floweret reveled save  The modest, blushing Rose. Miss Fuchsia sat around and told  For floral emulation, That she had actually refused  To dance with A. Carnation.
The Coxcomb, quite a dandy there,  Began to pine and mope, Until he had been introduced  To young Miss Heliotrope. Sir Cactus took Miss Lily,  And he swung her so about She asked Sweet Pea to Cauliflower  And put the Cactus out.
Miss Pansy took her Poppy  And she waltzed him down the line Till they ran against old Sunflower  With Miss Honeysuckle Vine. The others at the party that  Went whirling through the mazy Were the Misses Rhodo Dendron,  Daffodil and little Daisy.
Miss Petunia, Miss Verbena, Violet,  And sweet Miss Dahlia Came fashionably late, arrayed  In very rich regalia. Miss Begonia, sweet Miss Buttercup,  Miss Lilac and Miss Clover; Young Dandelion came in late  When all the feast was over.
The only flower that sent regrets  And really couldn't come, Who lived in the four hundred, was  The vain Chrysanthemum. One floweret at the table  Grew quite ill, we must regret, And every posy wondered, too,  Just what Miss Mignonette.
Young Tulip chose Miss Orchid  From the first, and did not part With her until Miss Mary Gold  Fell with a Bleeding Heart. But ah! Miss Rose sat pensively  Till every young bud passed her; When just to fill the last quadrille,  The China Aster.
# Ben King's Verse/The Fates

Fortune came to a youth one day and dressed  'im Up in his best. While Society smiled and caressed  'im, Along came Toil with a hammer and saw to test 'im--  And all three pressed 'im.
Manhood came, as it usually does, to bear 'im; Virtue stole in and sat by his side, but feared 'im; Ambition came with wonderful schemes and steered  'im--  But all three queered 'im.
Wisdom came and knocked at his door; he spurned  'im. Frivolity came on bicycle wheels and turned 'im; Remorse at last came up and stung 'im and burned  'im--  And all three churned 'im.
Poverty opened his door and found 'im and sought  'im; Paralysis, crouched in a corner, had finally caught  'im; Idleness claimed the prize because she'd taught 'im--  But all three got 'im.
Old Charon rowed up in the Time's canoe and ferried 'im Over the creek, when an undertaker hurried 'im, Dropped sand on his box, while a parson talked and  worried 'im--  But the whole crowd buried 'im.
# Ballads Founded on Anecdotes Relating to Animals/The Elephant

THE ELEPHANT.
BALLAD THE SECOND.
Say, nature, on whose wond'rous reign  Delighted fancy dwells,  Of all thy numerous brutal train  What animal excells?
 What quadruped most nobly vies  In virtue with mankind,  Like man deliberately wise,  And resolutely kind?
 Beneath a form vast and uncouth  Such excellence is found:  Sagacious Elephant! thy truth,  Thy kindness is renown'd.
 More mild than sanguinary man,  Whose servant thou hast prov'd,  Oft in his frantic battle's van  Thy bulk has stood unmoved:
 There oft thy spirit griev'd, to see  His murd'rous rage encrease,  'Till mad himself, he madden'd thee.  Thou nobler friend to peace!
 Acts of thy courage might occur  To grace heroic song;  But I thy gentle deeds prefer,  Thou strongest of the strong!
 Where India serves the British throne,  In scenes no longer wild,  A menial Elephant was known,  Most singularly mild!
 It was his custom, fresh and gay  By his attendant led,  Walking to water, every day,  To pass a gard'ner's shed,
 This gard'ner, of good natured fame,  Admir'd the noble beast;  And gave him, whensoe'er he came,  A vegetable feast.
 Some dainty, from his stall bestow'd,  So made the beast his friend;  'Twas joy to see, at this abode,  His blythe proboscis bend.
 Not coarsely eager for his food,  He seem'd his love to court,  And oft delighted, as he stood.  To yield his children sport.
 As if to thank them for each gift,  With tender, touching care,  The boys he to his back would lift,  And still caress them there.
 In short his placid gambols seem'd  Affection so profound,  His friendship for this man was deem'd  A wonder all around.
 But O! can humour's giddy range  Mislead the brutal mind?  Can elephants their friendship change,  As fickle as mankind?
 See now the hero of my song,  That theme of every tongue!  Alone, and fierce, he stalks along,  As if with frenzy stung:
 See! to the gard'ner's well-known shed  Impetuous he flies;  Seizes his friend in silent dread,  And lifts him to the skies.
 High as his trunk the man can bear,  Th' astonish'd man he bore,  Who vainly struggled in the air,  And trembled more and more.
 So wild, so swift, the monster past,  All deem'd him mad and fled.—  Thro' a high window gently cast,  With terror almost dead,
 The astounded gard'ner view'd with awe  The savage speed away;  But soon with gratitude he saw  The source of his dismay:
 Unthought of source! for now inflam'd  A ravenous tyger sprung,  And at the window vainly aim'd  To which he trembling clung.
 And now with joy his heart strings swell,  And blest he deems his lot;  For the foil'd tyger as he fell,  A latent marksman shot.
 The Elephant returns:—O Heaven!  How tender was his air,  Seeing the friend, whose life was given  To his preserving care!
 For, conscious of the danger, he,  Most providently kind,  From unseen ill to set him free,  Such rescue had designed.
 Ye, whom a friend's dark perils pain,  When terrors most unnerve him,  Learn from this Elephant to strain  Your sinews to preserve him.
# Ballads Founded on Anecdotes Relating to Animals

BALLADS,
BY WILLIAM HAYLEY, ESQ.
FOUNDED ON ANECDOTES RELATING TO ANIMALS,
WITH PRINTS, DESIGNED AND ENGRAVED BY WILLIAM BLAKE.
1805.
PREFACE
Three words of Horace may form an introduction to the following pages, the very words, which that amiable physician and poet, the late Dr. Cotton of St. Alban's, prefixed as a motto to his elegant and moral little volume of Visions in Verse:
"VIRGINIBUS PUERISQUE CANTO."
Or in plainer English prose:--The book is intended for young Readers.
index page
BALLADS.
INDEX.
The Dog
The Elephant
The Eagle
The Stag
The Stork
The Panther
The Grateful Snake
The Fatal Horse
The Lion
The Swan
The Hermit's Dog
The Halcyon
The Serpents
The Goat
The Baya
The Horse
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
# Ballads/front matter

BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
AN INLAND VOYAGE. EDINBURGH. TRAVELS WITH A DONKEY. VIRGINIBUS PUERISQUE. FAMILIAR STUDIES OF MEN AND BOOKS. NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS. TREASURE ISLAND. THE SILVERADO SQUATTERS. A CHILD'S GARDEN OF VERSES. PRINCE OTTO. STRANGE CASE OF DR. JEKYLL AND MR.HYDE. KIDNAPPED. THE MERRY MEN AND OTHER TALES AND FABLES. UNDERWOODS. MEMORIES AND PORTRAITS. MEMOIR OF FLEEMING JENKIN. THE BLACK ARROW. THE MASTER OF BALLANTRAE.
(WITH MRS. STEVENSON.)
MORE NEW ARABIAN NIGHTS: The Dynamiter.
(WITH LLOYD OSBOURNE.)
THE WRONG BOX.