OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Sabbath

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Sabbath."
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, 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 Sabbath, a poem by Lydia Huntley Sigourney (1836)
* "The Sabbath I" in Popular Science Monthly, 18 (December 1880), an address by John Tyndall
* "The Sabbath II" in Popular Science Monthly, 18 (January 1881), a further address by John Tyndall
* Safely Through Another Week, a hymn sometimes referred to as Sabbath
# Sabbath Morning

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Sabbath Morning."
* 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.
* "Sabbath Morning" (Welcome, welcome, quiet morning), a poem by Sarah J. Hale
* "Sabbath Morning" (Canst thou let thy spirit lie), a poem by Lydia Huntley Sigourney (as Lydia Huntley)
* "Sabbath Morning" (See! heaven wakes earth. There is an answering sigh), a poem by Lydia Huntley Sigourney (as Lydia Sigourney)

### See also

* The Sabbath Morning
# Saadi

Trees in groves
* Saadi in Poems (1847)
* Saadi in Poems (Household Edition, 1904)
* Saadi an essay in The Atlantic Monthly (1864)
# Sabbath v. United States

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
391 U.S. 585
Sabbath v. United States
Certiorari to the United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit
No. 898 Argued: May 2, 1968 --- Decided: June 3, 1968
One Jones was apprehended crossing the border from Mexico with cocaine, allegedly given to him by, and to be delivered to, "Johnny" in Los Angeles. Customs officers arranged for Jones to make delivery. Shortly after Jones entered "Johnny's" apartment, customs agents, without a warrant, knocked on the door, waited a few seconds, and, receiving no response, opened the unlocked door and entered. They arrested petitioner, searched the apartment, and found the cocaine and other items. The cocaine was introduced over objection at petitioner's trial for knowingly importing and concealing narcotics, and he was convicted. The Court of Appeals held that the agents did not "break open" the door within the meaning of 18 U.S.C. § 3109, which provides in part that an "officer may break open any outer or inner door or window of a house... to execute a search warrant, if, after notice of his authority and purpose, he is refused admittance or when necessary to liberate himself or a person aiding him," and that they were therefore not required to make a prior announcement of "authority and purpose."
Held:
    1. The validity of an entry of a federal officer to effect a warrantless arrest "must be tested by criteria identical to those embodied in" 18 U.S.C. § 3109, which deals with an entry to execute a search warrant. Miller v. United States, 357 U.S. 301; Wong Sun v. United States, 371 U.S. 471. Pp. 588-589.
    2. Section 3109, a codification of the common-law rule of announcement, basically proscribes an unannounced intrusion into a dwelling, which includes opening a closed but unlocked door. Pp. 589-591.
    3. Whether or not exigent circumstances would excuse compliance with § 3109, here there were none, as the agents had no basis for assuming petitioner was armed or that he might resist arrest, or that Jones was in danger. P. 591.
380 F. 2d 108, reversed and remanded.
Murray H. Bring, by appointment of the Court, 390 U. S. 935, argued the cause and filed briefs for petitioner.
John S. Martin, Jr., argued the cause for the United States. On the brief were Solicitor General Griswold, Assistant Attorney General Vinson; Beatrice Rosenberg, and Kirby W. Patterson.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Smithsonian Report

* 1898 (transcription project)
** The Tundras and Steppes of Prehistoric Europe
** Pithecanthropus erectus: A form from the ancestral stock of mankind
** On Our Present Knowledge of the Origin of Man
* 1906 (transcription project)
** Quaternary Human Remains in Central Europe
* 1909 (transcription project)
** Recent discoveries bearing on the antiquity of man in Europe
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Smithsonian Report/1906

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Smithsonian Report/1898

* The Tundras and Steppes of Prehistoric Europe
* Oceanography
* The Relation of Plant Physiology to the Other Sciences
* Pithecanthropus erectus: A form from the ancestral stock of mankind
* On Our Present Knowledge of the Origin of Man
* The Laws of Orientation Among Animals
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Songs and Lyrics (Lehrer)/Hey, Joe

​Author’s note:
The Gallery (1947) was a highly successful novel by John Horne Burns, based on his experiences in the American Army of Occupation in Naples in 1944.
In 1951 I and a fellow graduate student at Harvard, Eloise Knapp, briefly considered writing a musical based on the book. The project was soon abandoned. This is one of the few surviving fragments of the prospective score. It was intended to be sung by a group of scugnizzi (Neapolitan street urchins) to an Americn soldier, while a nearby Neapolitan singer sings "O Sole Mio".
HEY, JOE!
(The two parts are to be sung simultaneously)
| SCUGNIZZI: | NEAPOLITAN SINGER: |
| Hey, Joe! | Ma n’atu sole |
| You wanna meet my sister? | Cchiù bello oi nè |
| Hey, Joe! | O’ sole mio |
| She’s only seventeen. | Sta ‘nfronte a te |
| Hey, Joe! | ‘O sole |
| You oughta meet my sister, | ‘O sole mio |
| | Sta ‘nfronte a te |
| The prettiest piece-a tail you ever seen. | Sta ‘nfronte a te |
| (alt: little thing) |
| Whaddaya say? Hey, Joe! Whaddaya say? Hey, Joe! etc. (fading out as they exit) |
# Songs and Lyrics (Lehrer)/I Can't Think Why

I CAN'T THINK WHY based on King Gama's Song from Princess Ida by Giibert & Sullivan
revised lyrics by Tom Lehrer (2001)
If you give me your attention, I will tell you what I am. I'm a genuine philanthropist -- all other kinds are sham.
Each little fault of grammar and each social defect In my erring fellow-creatures I endeavor to correct.
To all of their deficiencies I ·open people's eyes, And little plans to decimate their egos I devise.
I do all the good I can do from the moment I awake, Yet many people say that I am rather hard to take. And I can't think why!
To compliments excessive I've a withering reply, And vanity I always do my best to mortify.
A charitable action I can skillfully dissect. A motive that's ulterior I'm happy to detect.
If someone does admit a fault, I nonetheless insist On calling his attention to the ones he may have missed.
I have a gift for crushing repartee, I must admit, But nobody appreciates the brilliance of my wit. And I can't think why!
Although I am opinionated, no one should object. How fortunate I am that my opinions are correct!
I point out people's weaknesses before they leave the room.
I enjoy correcting people who say "who" instead of "whom."
I always say whatever's on my mind, that's very true. I can tell a person's age in half a minute --- and I do.
And yet no matter how I try to benefit mankind, Still everybody says that I'm a pain in the behind. And I can't think why!
# Songs and Lyrics (Lehrer)/Hail, Chemistry

A recording of this song is available here.
HAIL, CHEMISTRY
from The Physical Revue (1951)
words by Tom Lehrer
music by Arthur Sullivan "Hail, Poetry", from The Pirates of Penzance
Hail, Chemistry!
We can't ignore
The truth that you're looked up to for.
Hail, Chemistry!
We can't deny
It's us
It's us
Whom you're well thought of by.
# Songs and Lyrics (Lehrer)/I Got It from Agnes

I GOT IT FROM AGNES
words & music by Tom Lehrer
VERSE:
I love my friends And they love me We're just as close As we can be And just because We really care Whatever we get We share!
CHORUSES:
I got it from Agnes She got it from Jim We all agree it must have been Louise who gave it to him Now, she got if from Harry, who got it from Marie And everybody knows that Marie ---- Got it from me!
Giles got it from Daphne She got it from Joan Who picked it up in County Cork, a-kissin' the Blarney Stone Pierre gave it to Sheila, who must have brought it there He got it from François and Jacques, aha! --- Lucky Pierre!
Max got it from Edith Who gets it every spring She got it from her Daddy, who just gives her everything She then gave it to Daniel, whose spaniel has it now Our dentist even got it, and we're still ---- Wondering how!
But I got it from Agnes Or maybr it was Sue Or Millie or Billie or Gillie or Willie, it doesn't matter who It might have been at the pub, or at the club, or in the loo And if you will be my friend, then I might Mind you, I said "might" orchestral passage, during which he looks around the audience, finally chooses someone, grins, points to him or her, and says: Give it to you!
# Songs and Lyrics (Lehrer)/I Hold Your Hand in Mine

I HOLD YOUR HAND IN MINE
words and music by Tom Lehrer
I hold your hand in mine, dear, I press it to my lips. I take a healthy bite From your dainty fingertips. My joy would be complete, dear, If you were only here, But still I keep your hand As a precious souvenir. The night you died I cut it off. I really don't know why. For now each time I kiss it I get bloodstains on my tie. I'm sorry now I killed you, For our love was something fine, And till they come to get me I shall hold your hand in mine.
For "Tom Lehrer Does Gangsta Rap" words by Dr. H. Paul Shuch see: www.qsl-.net/n6tx/poetry/bitch/gangsta.htm
# Songs and Lyrics (Lehrer)/High School Hymn

HIGH SCHOOL HYMN
Words by Tom Lehrer Music: "Eternal Father, Strong to Save" by John B. Dykes
To whom it may concern we pray That we'll get out of here some day. O Thou, our awesome chaperone, Who can't leave well enough alone, Give us a break, we beg of Thee, Or better yet, just let us be.
If Thou canst hear us, that's just swell. Sometimes it's really hard to tell. Perhaps we'll never see Thy face, But we'll keep praying just in case, Until the day we say goodbye, Released at last from --------- High.
# Songs and Lyrics (Lehrer)/I Wanna Go Back to Dixie

I WANNA GO BACK TO DIXIE (recorded version)
words and music by Tom Lehrer
I wanna go back to Dixie, Take me back to dear ol' Dixie, That's the only li'l ol' place for li'l ol' me. Old times there are not forgotten, Whuppin' slaves and sellin' cotton, And waitin' for the Robert E. Lee. (It was never there on time.)
I'll go back to the Swanee, Where pellagra makes you scrawny, And the honeysuckle clutters up the vine. I really am a-fixin' To go home and start a-mixin' Down below that Mason-Dixon line.
Oh, poll tax, How I love ya, how I love ya, my dear ol' poll tax.
Won'tcha come with me to Alabammy, Back to the arms of my dear ol' Mammy, Her cookin's lousy and her hands are clammy, But what the hell, it's home.
Yes, for paradise the Southland is my nominee. Jes' give me a ham hock and a grit of hominy.
I want to go back to Dixie, I want to be a Dixie pixie And eat corn pone till it's comin' outta my ears. I want to talk with Southern gentlemen And put that white sheet on again, I ain't seen one good lynchin' in years.
The land of the boll weevil, Where the laws are medieval, Is callin' me to come and nevermore roam. I want to go back to the Southland, That "y'all" and "shet-ma-mouth" land, Be it ever so decadent, There's no place like home.
I WANNA GO BACK TO DIXIE (revised)
words and music by Tom Lehrer
I wanna go back to Dixie, Take me back to dear old Dixie, That's the only li'l ol' place for li'l ol' me. Old times there are not forgotten, Whuppin' slaves and sellin' cotton, And waitin' for the Robert E. Lee (It was never there on time).
I'll go back to the Swanee, Where pellagra makes you scrawny, And the jasmine and the tear gas smell jes' fine. I really am a-fixin' To go back where there's no mixin', Down below that Mason-Dixon line.
To the tune of "In the Evening by the Moonlight" In the evening by the moonlight You can sit till you git sleepy Or go huntin' in the moonlight For the N-double-A-C-P
Yes, for paradise the Southland is my nominee. Jes' give me a ham hock and a grit of hominy.
I wanna start relaxin' Down in Birmingham or Jackson. When we're havin' fun, why, no one interferes. I wanna talk with southern gentlemen And put my white sheet on again. I ain't seen one good lynchin' in years.
The land of the boll weevil Where the laws are medieval, Is callin" me to come and nevermore roam. I wanna go back to the Southland, That "y'all" and "shet-ma-mouth" land. Be it ever so decadent, There's no place like home.
# Songs and Lyrics (Lehrer)/GSAS Alma Mater

GSAS ALMA MATER
words by Tom Lehrer music: "Goofus" by Wayne King & William Harold
Though we end up as professors or selling appliances We will not forget throughout all life's alliances The dear Graduate School of Arts and of Sciences No-sir-ree!
Though there is hardly a one here who knows if he Will be an M.A. or a Doctor of Philosophy Nevertheless GSAS We will always be true to thee!
Though you have no football team And no cheers that we can scream Yet as strange as it may seem We still love you!
Each alumnus may meet with success or adversity But whether he feels he should bless it or curse it, he Admits it's the best part of this university Yes-sir-ree!
Far from the real world's corruption and connivery We love ev'ry one of your great tow'rs of ivory And we confess GSAS, We will always be true to thee!
# Songs and Lyrics (Lehrer)/He's Not the One

HE'S NOT THE ONE
(Trio - Jamie, Sara, Austin, written for the aborted version of Park) lyrics by Tom Lehrer (no music written)
J: He's not the one S: I think he is J: I think he's not S: But this is the day, and this is the time, and this is the spot J: If he's the one, then why did he give me that line? S: Something is fishy, I just wish he Would give us some kind of a sign J: He's not the one S: I bet he is J: I bet he's not Whatever became of his limp? S: I guess he forgot J: He was supposed to be wearing a hat S: I don't remember them telling us that J : But could he really have killed seven guys? S: Sure, did you get a good look at those eyes? J: And the suit was supposed to be green
Gabardine -- And clean S: He is the one J: There's only one way to be sure S: You mean...... J: I do S: Well? J: No, you [S goes over to A] S: [spoken] Will the ostrich dance with the porcupine? A : [spoken, hesistantly] Only if he is sufficiently --- tight. [S goes back to J] S: [spoken] Did you hear that? J: He's not the one S: Oh yes, he is J: Oh no, he's not S: We have to be sure, because if we're wrong, we're gonna get shot
J: It just might be some kind of a double cross He could be a narc They're all over the park S: Do you think I should check with the boss? J: He's not the one S: I bet he is J: I bet he's not S: And we've only an hour to get from here to the yacht J: He was supposed to be smoking a pipe Frankly, he just doesn't look like the type S: Look like a spy, you mean? Heaven forbid He'd be a hell of a spy if he did But he picked up the code all right J: Not quite He said "tight" He's not the one S: Okay, let's try him one more time J: You mean..... S: I do J: Well? S: No, you [J goes over to A] J: [spoken] Will the ostrich dance with the porcupine? A: [spoken, hesitantly, while S and J encourage him to get it right] Only if he is sufficiently --- loose' [S and J cheer] J: He is the one S: He is the one A: I am the one J: The plans? A: The dough? S: [handing "money" to A] The dough A: [handing "plans " to J] The plans J: Well done S: Well done A: Well done J: He is S: He is A: I am ALL: The one
# Songs, Legends, and Ballads/Withered Snowdrops

WITHERED SNOWDROPS.
THEY came in the early spring-days,
With the first refreshing showers
And I watched the growing beauty
Of the little drooping flowers.
They had no bright hues to charm me.
No gay painting to allure;
But they made me think of angels,
They were all so white and pure.
In the early morns I saw them,
Dew-drops clinging to each bell,
And the first glad sunbeam hasting
Just to kiss them ere they fell.
Daily grew their spotless beauty;
But I feared when chill winds blew
They were all too frail and tender,—
And alas! my fears were true.
One glad morn I went to see them
While the bright drops gemmed their snow
And one angel flower was withered,
Its fair petals drooping low.
Its white sister's tears fell on it,
And the sunbeam sadly shone;
For its innocence was withered,
And its purity was gone.
Still I left it there: I could not
Tear it rudely from its place;
It might rise again, and summer
Might restore its vanished grace.
But my hopes grew weaker, weaker.
And my heart with grief was pained
When I knew it must be severed
From the innocence it stained.
I must take it from the pure ones:
Henceforth they must live apart.
But I could not cut my flow'ret—
My lost angel—from my heart.
Oft I think of that dead snowdrop,
Think with sorrow, when I meet,
"Day by day, the poor lost flowers,—
Sullied snowdrops of the street.
They were pure once, loved and loving,
And there still lives good within.
Ah I speak gently to them: harsh words
Will not lead them from their sin.
The are not like withered flowers
That can never bloom again:
They can rise, bright angel snowdrops,
Purified from every stain.
# Songs, Legends, and Ballads/The Trial of the Gods

THE TRIAL OF THE GODS.
NEVER nobler was the Senate,
Never grander the debate:
Rome's old gods are on their trial
By the judges of the state!
Torn by warring creeds, the Fathers
Urge to-day the question home—
"Whether Jupiter or Jesus
Shall be God henceforth in Rome?"
Lo, the scene! In Jove's own temple,
As of old, the Fathers meet;
Through the porch, to hear the speeches,
Press the people from the street.
Pontiffs, rich with purple vesture,
Pass from senate chair to chair;
Learned augurs, still as statues—
Voiceless statues, too—are there;
Vestal virgins, white with terror,
Mutely asking—what has come?
What new light shall turn to darkness
Vesta's holy fire in Rome?
Answer, Quindecemvirs! Surely,
Of this wondrous Nazarene
Ye must know, who keep the secrets
Of the prophet Sibylline?
Nay, no word! Here stand the Flamens:
Have ye read the omens, priests?
Slain the victims, white and sable,
Scanned the entrails of the beasts?
Priest of Pallas, see! the people
Ask for oracles to-day:
Silent! Priests of Mars and Venus?
Lo, they turn, dumb-lipped, away! Priest of Jove? Flamen dialis!
Here in Jove's own temple meet
In debate the Roman Senate,
And Jove's priest with timid feet
Stands beyond the altar railing!
Gods, I feel ye frown above!
In the shadow of Jove's altar
Men defy the might of Jove!
Treason riots in the temple
At the sacrilege profound:
Virgins mocked, and augurs banished,
And divinities discrowned!
Hush! Old Rome herself appeareth,
Pleading for the ancient faith:
Urging all her by-gone glory—
That to change the old were death.
Rudely answer the patricians,
Scoffing at the time-worn snare:
Twice a thousand years of sacrifice
Have melted into air;
Twice a thousand years of worship
Have bitterly sufficed
To prove there is no Jupiter!
The Senate votes for Christ!
Not aimless is the story,
The moral not remote:
For still the gods are questioned,
And still the Senates vote.
Men sacrifice to Venus;
To Mars are victims led;
And Mercury is honored still;
And Bacchus is not dead;—
But these are minor deities
That cling to human sight:
Our twilight they—but Right and Wrong
Are clear as day and night.
We know the Truth: but falsehood
With our lives is so inwove—
Our Senates vote down Jesus
As old Rome degraded Jove!
# Songs, Legends, and Ballads/The Value of Gold

THE VALUE OF GOLD.
THERE may be standard weight for precious metal,
But deeper meaning it must ever hold;
Thank God, there are some things no law can settle,
And one of these—the real worth of gold.
The stamp of king or crown has common power
To hold the traffic-value in control;
Our coarser senses note this worth—the lower;
The higher comes from senses of the soul.   This truth we find not in mere warehouse learning—
The value varies with the hands that hold;
The worth depends upon the mode of earning;
And this man's copper equals that man's gold.
With empty heart, and forehead lined with scheming.
Men's sin and sorrow have been that man's gain;
But this man's heart, with rich emotions teeming,
Makes fine the gold for which he coins his brain.
But richer still than gold from upright labor—
The only gold that should have standard price—
Is the poor earning of our humble neighbor,
Whose every coin is red with sacrifice.
Mere store of money is not wealth, but rather
The proof of poverty and need of bread.
Like men themselves is the bright gold they gather It may be living, or it may be dead.
It may be filled with love and life and vigor,
To guide the wearer, and to cheer the way;
It may be corpse-like in its weight and rigor,
Bending the bearer to his native clay.
There is no comfort but in outward showing
In all the servile homage paid to dross;
Better to heart and soul the silent knowing
Our little store has not been gained by loss.
# Songs, Legends, and Ballads/To-Day

TO-DAY.
ONLY from day to day
The life of a wise man runs;
What matter if seasons far away
Have gloom or have double suns?
To climb the unreal path,
We stray from the roadway here;
We swim the rivers of wrath,
And tunnel the hills of fear.
Our feet on the torrent's brink.
Our eyes on the cloud afar,
We fear the things we think,
Instead of the things that are.
Like a tide our work should rise-
Each later wave the best;
To-day is a king in disguise,
To-day is the special test.
Like a sawyer's work is life:
The present makes the flaw.
And the only field for strife
Is the inch before the saw.
# Songs, Legends, and Ballads/Western Australia

WESTERN AUSTRALIA.
Nation of sun and sin,
Thy flowers and crimes are red,
And thy heart is sore within
While the glory crowns thy head.
Land of the songless birds,
What was thine ancient crime,
Burning through lapse of time
Like a prophets cursing words
Aloes and myrrh, and tears
Mix in thy hitter wine:
Drink, while the cup is thine.
Drink, for the draught is sign
Of thy reign in the coming yearn.
PROLOGUE.
WESTERN AUSTRALIA.
O BEAUTEOUS Southland! land of yellow air,
That hangeth o'er thee slumbering, and doth hold
The moveless foliage of thy valleys fair
And wooded hills, like aureole of gold.
O thou, discovered ere the fitting time,
Ere Nature in completion turned thee forth! Ere aught was finished but thy peerless clime,
Thy virgin breath allured the amorous North.
O land, God made thee wondrous to the eye!
But His sweet singers thou hast never heard;
He left thee, meaning to come by-and-bye.
And give rich voice to every bright-winged bird.
He painted with fresh hues thy myriad flowers.
But left them scentless: ah! their woful dole,
Like sad reproach of their Creator's powers,—
To make so sweet fair bodies, void of soul.
He gave thee trees of odorous precious wood;
But, midst them all, bloomed not one tree of fruit.
He looked, but said not that His work was good,
When leaving thee all perfumeless and mute.
He blessed thy flowers with honey: every bell
Looks earthward, sunward, with a yearning wist;
But no bee-lover ever notes the swell
Of hearts, like lips, a-huugering to be kist.
O strange land, thou art virgin! thou art more
Than fig-tree barren! Would that I could paint
For others' eyes the glory of the shore
Where last I saw thee; but the senses faint
In soft delicious dreaming when they drain
Thy wine of color. Virgin fair thou art,
All sweetly fruitful, waiting with soft pain
The spouse who comes to wake thy sleeping heart.