OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Poets and Poetry of America/Human Frailty

Disasters on disasters grow,  And those which are not sent we make; The good we rarely find below,  Or, in the search, the road mistake.
The object of our fancied joys  With eager eye we keep in view: Possessions, when acquired, destroys  The object, and the passion too.
The hat that hid Belinda's hair  Was once the darling of her eye; 'Tis now dismiss'd, she knows not where;  Is laid aside, she knows not why.
Life is to most a nauseous pill,  A treat for which they dearly pay: Let's take the good, avoid the ill,  Discharge the debt, and walk away.
# The Poets and Poetry of America/Spring

The Spring is here, the delicate-footed May,  With its slight fingers full of leaves and flowers; And with it comes a thirst to be away,  Wasting in wood-paths its voluptuous hours; A feeling that is like a sense of wings, Restless to soar above these perishing things.
We pass out from the city's feverish hum,  To find refreshment in the silent woods; And nature, that is beautiful and dumb,  Like a cool sleep upon the pulse broods; Yet, even there, a restless thought will steal, To teach the indolent heart it still must feel.
Strange, that the audible stillness of the noon,  The waters tripping with their silver feet, The turning to the light of leaves in June,  And the light whisper as their edges meet: Strange, that they fill not, with their tranquil tone, The spirit, walking in their midst alone.
There's no contentment in a world like this,  Save in forgetting the immortal dream; We may not gaze upon the stars of bliss,  That through the cloud-rifts radiantly stream; Bird-like, the prison'd soul will lift its eye And pine till it is hooded from the sky.
# The Poets and Poetry of America/Elysium

She dwelleth in Elysium; there, Like Echo, floating in the air; Feeding on light as feed the flowers, She fleets away uncounted hours, Where halcyon Peace, among the bless'd, Sits brooding o'er her tranquil nest.
She needs no impulse; one she is, Whom thought supplies with ample bliss: The fancies fashion'd in her mind By Heaven, are after its own kind; Like sky-reflection in a lake, Whose calm no winds occur to break.
Her memory is purified, And she seems never to have sigh'd: She hath forgot the way to weep; Her being is a joyous sleep; The mere imagining of pain, Hath pass'd and cannot come again.
Except of pleasure most intense And constant, she hath lost all sense; Her life is day without a night, An endless, innocent delight; No changes her happiness now mars Howe'er Fate twine her wreathe of stars.
And palpable and pure, the part Which pleasure playeth with her heart; For every joy that seeks the maid, Foregoes its common painful shade Like shapes that issue from the grove Arcadian, dedicate to Jove.
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
# The Poets and Poetry of America/April

1829
"A violet by a mossy stone,  Half-hidden from the eye, Fair as a star, when only one  Is shining in the sky." Wordsworth
I have found violets. April hath come on, And the cool winds feel softer, and the rain Falls in the beaded drops of summer-time. You may hear birds at morning, and at eve The tame dove lingers till the twilight falls, Cooling upon the eaves, and drawing in His beautiful, bright neck; and, from the hills, A murmur like the hoarseness of the sea, Tells the release of waters, and the earth Sends up a pleasant smell, and the dry leaves Are lifted by the grass; and so I know That Nature, with her delicate ear, hath heard The dropping of the velvet foot of Spring. Take of my violets! I found them where The liquid south stole o'er them, on a bank That lean'd to running water. There's to me A daintiness about these early flowers, That touches me like poetry. They blow With such a simple loveliness among The common herbs of pasture, and breathe out Their lives so unobtrusively, like hearts Whose beatings are too gentle for the world. I love to go in the capricious days Of April and hunt violets, when the rain Is in the blue cups trembling, and they nod So gracefully to the kisses of the wind. It may be deem'd too idle, but the young Read nature like the manuscript of Heaven, And call the flowers its poetry. Go out! Ye spirits of habitual unrest, And read it, when the "fever of the world" Hath made your hearts impatient, and, if life Hath yet one spring unpoison'd, it will be Like a beguiling music to its flow, And you will no more wonder that I love To hunt for violets in the April-time.
# The Poets and Poetry of America/Serenade

1825
Look out upon the stars, my love, And shame them with thine eyes, On which, than on the lights above, There hang more destinies. Night's beauty is the harmony Of blending shades and light; Then, Lady, up,—look out, and be A sister to the night!—
Sleep not!—thine image wakes for aye Within my watching breast: Sleep not!—from her soft sleep should fly, Who robs all hearts of rest. Nay, Lady, from thy slumbers break, And make this darkness gay, With looks, whose brightness well might make Of darker nights a day.
# The Poets and Poetry of America/The Belfry Pigeon

1835
On the cross-beam under the Old South bell The nest of a pigeon is builded well. In summer and winter that bird is there, Out and in with the morning air; I love to see him track the street, With his wary eye and active feet; And I often watch him as he springs, Circling the steeple with easy wings, Till across the dial his shade has pass'd, And the belfry edge is gain'd at last. 'Tis a bird I love, with its brooding note, And the trembling throb in its mottled throat; There's a human look in its swelling breast, And the gentle curve of its lowly crest; And I often stop with the fear I feel, He runs so close to the rapid wheel.  Whatever is rung on that noisy bell— Chime of the hour or funeral knell— The dove in the belfry must hear it well. When the tongue swings out to the midnight moon— When the sexton cheerly rings for noon— When the clock strikes clear at morning light, When the child is waked with "nine at night," When the chimes play soft in the Sabbath air, Filling the spirit with tones of prayer,— Whatever tale in the bell is heard, He broods on his folded feet unstirred, Or, rising half in his rounded nest, He takes the time to smoothe his breast, Then drops again, with filmed eyes, And sleeps as the last vibration dies.  Sweet bird! I would that I could be A hermit in the crowd like thee! With wings to fly to wood and glen! Thy lot, like mine, is cast with men! And daily, with unwilling feet, I tread, like thee, the crowded street; But, unlike me, when day is o'er, Thou canst dismiss the world, and soar, Or, at a half-felt wish for rest, Canst smoothe the feathers on thy breast, And drop, forgetful, to thy nest.  I would that, in such wings of gold, I could my weary heart upfold; I would I could look down unmoved, (Unloving as I am unloved,) And, while the world throngs on beneath, Smoothe down my cares and calmly breathe; And never sad with others' sadness, And never glad with others' gladness, Listen, unstirr'd, to knell or chime, And, lapp'd in quiet, bide my time.
# The Poets and Poetry of America/The Annoyer

* information about this edition.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
1829
Sogna il guerriér le schiere,  Le sel ve il cacciatór;  E sogna il pescatór;  Le reti, e l' amo. Metastasio.
Love knoweth every form of air,  And every shape of earth, And comes, unbidden, everywhere,  Like thought's mysterious birth. The moonlight sea and the sunset sky  Are written with Love's words, And you hear his voice unceasingly,  Like song in the time of birds.
He peeps into the warrior's heart  From the tip of a stooping plume, And the serried spears, and the many men  May not deny him room. He'll come to his tent in the weary night,  And be busy in his dream; And he'll float to his eye in morning light  Like a fay on a silver beam.
He hears the sound of the hunter's gun,  And rides on the echo back, And sighs in his ear like a stirring leaf,  And flits in his woodland track. The shade of the wood, and the sheen of the river,  The cloud, and the open sky— He will haunt them all with his subtle quiver,  Like the light of your very eye.
The fisher hangs over the leaning boat,  And ponders the silver sea, For Love is under the surface hid,  And a spell of thought has he. He heaves the wave like a bosom sweet,  And speaks in the ripple low, Till the bait is gone from the crafty line,  And the hook hangs bare below.
He blurs the print of the scholar's book,  And intrudes in the maiden's prayer. And profanes the cell of the holy man,  In the shape of a lady fair. In the darkest night, and the bright daylight,  In earth, and sea, and sky, In every home of human thought,  Will Love be lurking night.
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
# The Poets and Poetry of America/Bronx

I sat me down upon a green bank-side, Skirting the smooth edge of a gentle river, Whose waters seemed unwillingly to glide, Like parting friends who linger while they sever; Enforced to go, yet seeming still unready, Backward they wind their way in many a wistful eddy.
Gray o'er my head the yellow-vested willow Ruffled its hoary top in the fresh breezes, Glancing in light, like spray on a green billow, Or the fine frost-work which young winter freezes; When first his power in infant pastime trying, Congeals sad autumn's tears on the dead branches lying.
From rocks around hung the loose ivy dangling, And in the clefts sumach of liveliest green, Bright ising-stars the little beach was spangling, The gold-cup sorrel from his gauzy screen Shone like a fairy crown, enchased and beaded, Left on some morn, when light flashed in their eyes unheeded.
The hum-bird shook his sun-touched wings around, The bluefinch caroll'd in the still retreat; The antic squirrel capered on the ground Where lichens made a carpet for his feet: Through the transparent waves, the ruddy minkle Shot up in glimmering sparks his red fin's tiny twinkle.
There were dark cedars with loose mossy tresses, White powdered dog-trees, and stiff hollies flaunting Gaudy as rustics in their May-day dresses, Blue pelloret from purple leaves upslanting A modest gaze, like eyes of a young maiden Shining beneath dropt lids the evening of her wedding.
The breeze fresh springing from the lips of morn, Kissing the leaves, and sighing so to lose 'em, The winding of the merry locust's horn, The glad spring gushing from the rock's bare bosom: Sweet sights, sweet sounds, all sights, all sounds excelling, Oh! 'twas a ravishing spot formed for a poet's dwelling.
And did I leave thy loveliness, to stand Again in the dull world of earthly blindness? Pained with the pressure of unfriendly hands, Sick of smooth looks, agued with icy kindness? Left I for this thy shades, were none intrude, To prison wandering thought and mar sweet solitude?
Yet I will look upon thy face again, My own romantic Bronx, and it will be A face more pleasant than the face of men. Thy waves are old companions, I shall see A well-remembered form in each old tree, And hear a voice long loved in thy wild minstrelsy.
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
# The Poetical Works of William Cowper (Benham)/The Nightingale and Glow-worm

THE NIGHTINGALE AND GLOW-WORM.
# The Poetical Works of William Cowper (Benham)/The Castaway

THE CASTAWAY.
# The Poetical Works of William Cowper (Benham)/The Task

THE
TASK,
A
POEM,
IN SIX BOOKS.
By WILLIAM COWPER, OF THE INNER TEMPLE, ESQ.
Fit surculus arbor.
Anonym.
To which are added,
BY THE SAME AUTHOR,
An Epistle to Joseph Hill, Esq. Tirocinium, or a Review of Schools, and the History of John Gilpin.
LONDON: PRINTED FOR J. JOHNSON, No 72, ST PAUL'S CHURCH-YARD: 1785.
[Copy of the title-page of Cowper's second publication.]
ADVERTISEMENT.
The history of the following production is briefly this: A lady, fond of blank verse, demanded a poem of that kind from the author, and gave him the SOFA for a subject. He obeyed; and, having much leisure, connected another subject with it; and, pursuing the train of thought to which his situation and turn of mind led him, brought forth at length, instead of the trifle which he at first intended, a serious affair—a Volume.
In the poem on the subject of Education, he would be very sorry to stand suspected of having aimed his censure at any particular school. His objections are such as naturally apply themselves to schools in general. If there were not, as for the most part there is, wilful neglect in those who manage them, and an omission even of such discipline as they are susceptible of, the objects are yet too numerous for minute attention; and the aching hearts of ten thousand parents, mourning under the bitterest of all disappointments, attest the truth of the allegation. His quarrel, therefore, is with the mischief at large, and not with any particular instance of it.
* Book I ─ The Sofa
* Book II ─ The Time-Piece
* Book III ─ The Garden
* Book IV ─ The Winter Evening
* Book V ─ The Winter Morning Walk
* Book VI ─ The Winter Walk at Noon
# The Poetical Works of William Cowper (Benham)/On a Mistake in his Translation of Homer

ON A MISTAKE IN HIS TRANSLATION OF HOMER.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Oglesby, Richard James

See also Richard J. Oglesby on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
​ Oglesby (ō′g’lz-bĭ), Richard James, American soldier and statesman, was born in Oldham County, Ky., July 25, 1824. Working at the carpenter's trade and studying law until he was twenty, he began practice in 1845 at Sullivan, Ill. He served as a first-lieutenant in the Mexican War, and at its close he returned to his profession at Decatur. On the outbreak of the Civil War he resigned his seat in the state senate, to which he had been elected in 1860, and plunged into the contest, leaving for the front at the head of the Eighth Illinois. He participated in the battles of Ft. Henry and Donelson, commanding a brigade in each. He was severely wounded at Corinth, but in April, 1863, he returned to duty as, a major-general in command of the sixteenth corps. He was elected governor of Illinois, and served in that capacity from 1865 to 1869. He was re-elected in 1872, but was chosen United States senator in January of 1873. He was governor again from 1885 to 1889, and died at Elkhart, Ill., April 24, 1899.
# The New Student's Reference Work/October

See also October on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
Octo'ber, from the Latin octo, meaning eight, was the eighth month of the year at Rome, but became the tenth when Numa changed the beginning of the year to the first of January. The Roman senate made many attempts to change the name.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Odessa

See also Odessa on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
Odes′sa, the fourth city in Russia, a seaport of the Black Sea, about half way between the Dnieper and Dniester Rivers. It is built facing the sea, on cliffs, with deep ravines, and with galleries hollowed out of the soft rock, in which many of the poorest people live. It is a modern city, founded in 1794 near an old Turkish fort, but has grown rapidly, being the chief shipping-port for the corn-growing districts of southern Russia. The harbor is protected by moles against the dangerous winds of the Black Sea, and is menaced by ice hardly more than a fortnight in the whole year. The trade is largely in grain, principally wheat, but sugar, wool and flour are also exported. It also has sugar and oil refineries, and tobacco, leather, soap and chemicals are manufactured. It has a university with 1,714 students, a public library, historical museum, cathedral, opera-house and great grain warehouses and elevators. Water is brought to the city from the Dniester by an aqueduct 27 miles long. Odessa is known as a home of the cholera, for its persecution of the Jews and as headquarters of the nihilists. Population 520,000.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Offenbach, Jacques

See also Jacques Offenbach on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
​ Offenbach (ṓf′fen-bäk′), Jacques, a Franco-Jewish composer, was born at Cologne, Germany, June 21, 1819. He settled at Paris, and became manager in one of the theaters. He composed a great number of operettas, but is best known for a series of burlesque operas, which make him the father of the modern comic opera. The Grand Duchess, The Beautiful Helen, Genevieve of Brabant, Barbe-bleue and Madame Favart are among the most notable, the last being very popular in England. He died at Paris, Oct. 5, 1880.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Ogden, Robert Curtis

See also Robert Curtis Ogden on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
​ Og′den, Robert Curtis, American educator and magazine-writer, was born at Philadelphia, Pa., in 1836. He received the degree of A. M. from Yale, and LL.D. from Tulane University. Mr. Ogden is president of the trustees of Hampton Institute and a trustee of Tuskegee Institute. (See Hampton and Tuskegee). He also is president of the Southern Education Board and a member of many educational associations.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Ogdensburg, N. Y.

See also Ogdensburg, New York on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
​ Og′densburg, N. Y., a city and port of entry in St. Lawrence County, on the St. Lawrence and connected by steam ferry with Prescott, Ontario. The city lies 175 miles northwest of Albany, and has communication by river westward to the Great Lakes and eastward by Montreal and Quebec to the Atlantic. By rail it is served by the Rutland Railroad and the Rome, Watertown and Ogdensburg Railroad. It has a large grain and lumber trade, and manufactures silk, flour, gloves, dressskirts, leather and brass goods, lumber and lumber-products. Among the prominent buildings are the custom-house, state armory, public library, state insane hospital, Saint John de Deo's Hospital (quarantine), an orphanage and a home for the aged. Besides a creditable school-system the city owns a public-school, free academy and Saint Mary's Academy (free). Population 15,933.
# The New Student's Reference Work/O'Meara, The Reverend Thomas Robert

See also the disclaimer.
​O’Mea′ra, The Reverend Thomas Robert, LL.D., principal of Wycliffe College, Toronto, and canon of St. Alban’s cathedral, was born at Georgetown, Ontario, Oct. 16th, 1864. He was educated at the public school and the collegiate institute at Port Hope, from which he went to the University of Toronto and Wycliffe College, graduating in 1887. He was ordained a deacon in July of 1887 and a priest in December of 1888. For a year he was curate of St. Philip’s, Toronto, but in 1889 he accepted the assistant-rectorship of Trinity Church, Toronto, and the financial secretaryship of Wycliffe College.  Principal O’Meara held this position until 1903, when he accepted the chair of practical theology which he still holds. In 1904 he was appointed rector of Trinity Church, Toronto.  In 1906 he resigned to accept the principalship of Wycliffe College. Principal O’Meara has for many years been secretary of the Canadian Church Missionary Society, of which he was elected a life governor three years ago. He has also been president of the Church of England Deaconess and Missionary Training-House for years. He also is vice-president of the Upper Canada Bible-Society.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Oder

See also Oder River on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
O′der, one of the main rivers of Germany, rises in Moravia, crosses Silesia, Brandenburg and Pomerania, and finally empties through three channels into the Baltic. It is 550 miles long, but owing to its rapid fall and the sediment left at the mouth of its many tributaries navigation is difficult, and great expense is necessary to prevent its overflowing.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Oersted, Hans Christian

See also Hans Christian Ørsted on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
​ Oer′sted (ẽr′stĕth), Hans Christian, a distinguished Danish physicist, who first discovered a connection between electricity and magnetism, was born on Aug. 14, 1777, and died at Copenhagen, March 9, 1851. He was educated in Copenhagen, where he took his doctor's degree in 1800, and in 1806 he was appointed to a professorship in physics. On July 21, 1820, he was passing the current of a large battery through a platinum wire, when he discovered that a magnetic needle near by was deflected. As shown by its consequences, this proved to be an epoch-making discovery, for which the Royal Society awarded him the Copley medal and the Paris Institute a mathematical prize amounting to 3,000 francs. See Ampère.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Ogden, Utah

See also Ogden, Utah on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
​ Ogden, Utah, county-seat of Weber County, at the union of Weber and Ogden Rivers, where the Weber passes through Wahsatch Mountains. It is situated 37 miles north of Salt Lake City, and is 4,340 feet above the sea. It was founded by Brigham Young in 1848-50, is in a rich agricultural and mining region, while at the city limits is the opening of Ogden Canon. The picturesque beauty of this place attracts many tourists, and the water-power of the falls is utilized by the electrical works, which supply light and heat for Ogden and Salt Lake City. It is a railroad center, and has a Methodist university, a foundry and large mills, breweries, canneries, pickle factories, beet-sugar factories and woolen mills. It has public and parochial schools, other ​excellent educational institutions and the service of five railroads. Population 25,580.
# The Pool of Bethesda

from The native poets of Maine (1854)
Unto the holy city came  Judea's hapless sons and daughters,  The paralytic, blind and lame,  To seek Bethesda's healing waters---  The Angel o'er the fountain mov'd  With kindly power from day to day;  And he that first its virtues prov'd,  Was heal'd, and forthwith went his way.
 Amid the throng who waited there,---  Judea's sons and daughters,---  A patient Hebrew many a year  Had watch'd the troubled waters.  And often at the healing hour  He feebly toward the fountain bore him,  But all too late to feel its power,  For one had always stepp'd before him.
 A stranger came and look'd awhile  On him who there in anguish lay,  Then kindly said, with holy smile,  'Hebrew, arise and go thy way!'  As forth into the world that hour,  With footsteps light, the Hebrew trod,  'I've felt,' he cried, 'the Almighty's power,  I've heard the voice of God.'
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
# The Reciter/The orphan boy

THE ORPHAN BOY.
Stay, Lady-stay, for mercy's sake, And hear a helpless Orphan's tale; Ah! sure my looks must pity wake, 'Tis want that makes my cheeks so pale.
Yet I was once a mother's pride, And my brave father's hope and joy: But in the Nile's proud fight he died, And I am now an Orphan Boy!
​Poor foolish child---how pleas'd was I When news of Nelson's victory came; Along the crouded streets to fly, To see the lighted windows flame!
To force me home my mother sought, She could not bear to see my joy : For with my father's life 'twas bought, And made me a poor Orphan Boy !
The people's shouts were long and loud, My mother shudd'ring, clos'd her ears; Rejoice! rejoice! still cry'd the croud, My mother answer'd with her tears!
Why are you crying thus, said I, While others laugh and shout with joy She kiss'd me, and with such a sigh, She call'd me her poor Orphan Boy!
What is an Orphan Boy? I cry'd, As in her face I look'd and smil'd, My mother through her tears reply'd, 'You'll know to soon, ill-fated child.'
And now they've toll'd my mother's knell, And I'm no more a parent's joy: Ah! Lady, I have known too well What 'tis to be an Orphan Boy!
Oh! were I by your bounty fed, Nay, gentle lady, do not chide; Trust me-I mean to earn my bread, The Sailor's Orphan Boy has pride
​Lady! you weep--ah! this to me: You'll give me clothing, food, employ; Look down, dear parents! look and see Your happy---happy Orphan Boy!