OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge/Songs of Peace/Evening in England

EVENING IN ENGLAND
Ffom its blue vase the rose of evening drops. Upon the streams its petals float away. The hills all blue with distance hide their tops In the dim silence falling on the grey. A little wind said "Hush!" and shook a spray Heavy with May's white crop of opening bloom, A silent bat went dipping up the gloom.
Night tells her rosary of stars full soon, They drop from out her dark hand to her knees. Upon a silhouette of woods the moon ​Leans on one horn as if beseeching ease From all her changes which have stirred the seas. Across the ears of Toil Rest throws her veil, I and a marsh bird only make a wail.
# The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge/Songs of Peace/Nocturne

NOCTURNE
The rim of the moon Is over the corn. The beetle's drone Is above the thorn. Grey days come soon And I am alone; Can you hear my moan Where you rest, Aroon?
When the wild tree bore The deep blue cherry, In night's deep hall Our love kissed merry. ​But you come no more Where its woodlands call, And the grey days fall On my grief, Astore!
# The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge/Songs of Peace/Fate

FATE
Lugh made a stir in the air With his sword of cries, And fairies thro' hidden ways Came from the skies, And their spells withered up the fair And vanquished the wise.
And old lame Balor came down With his gorgon eye Hidden behind its lid, Old, withered and dry. He looked on the wattle town, And the town passed by.
​These things I know in my dreams, The crying sword of Lugh, And Balor's ancient eye Searching me through, Withering up my songs And my pipe yet new.
# The Chimney Sweeper (Blake, 1789)

This poem was originally published in the collection Songs of Innocence (1789).
# The China Review

* related portals: Periodicals, China.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
An academic journal published in Hong Kong from 1872 to 1901 as an outlet for writings on China by foreign scholars.

## Volumes

* Volume 1 (1872–1873) (external scan)
* Volume 2 (1873–1874) (external scan)
* Volume 3 (1874–1875) (external scan)
* Volume 4 (1875–1876) (external scan)
* Volume 5 (1876–1877) (external scan)
* Volume 6 (1877–1878) (external scan)
* Volume 7 (1878–1879) (external scan)
* Volume 8 (1879–1880) (external scan)
* Volume 9 (1880–1881) (external scan)
* Volume 10 (1881–1882) (external scan)
* Volume 11 (1882–1883) (external scan)
* Volume 12 (1883–1884) (external scan)
* Volume 13 (1884–1885) (external scan)
* Volume 14 (1885–1886) (external scan)
* Volume 15 (1886–1887) (external scan)
* Volume 16 (1887–1888) (external scan)
* Volume 17 (1888–1889) (external scan)
* Volume 18 (1889–1890) (external scan)
* Volume 19 (1890–1891) (external scan)
* Volume 20 (1892–1893) (external scan)
* Volume 21 (1894–1895) (external scan)
* Volume 22 (1896–1897) (external scan)
* Volume 23 (1898–1899)
* Volume 24 (1899–1900) (external scan)
* Volume 25 (1900–1901) (external scan)

## Index

* Index (external scan)
This work is in the public domain in Hong Kong because the copyright in this work has expired. A work's copyright is expired in Hong Kong when either the author of the work died before 1974, or if the work's author is unknown, the work was created before 1974.
See Section 17 of the Copyright Ordinance (Cap. 528) of the Laws of Hong Kong.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
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 Chimney Sweeper (Notebook)

From Notebook, p. 105 & 103, reversed. First draft of the poem The Chimney Sweeper (Blake, 1794) in Songs of Experience
The Chimney Sweeper
A little black thing among the snow Crying "'weep, 'weep!" in notes of woe. "Where are thy father & mother? say?" "They are both gone up to the church to pray.
"Because I was happy upon the heath, "And smil'd among the winter's [wind del.] snow, "They clothed me in the clothes of death "And taught me to sing the notes of woe.
"And because I am happy & dance & sing, "They think they have done me no injury, "And are gone to praise God & his Priest & King, "[Who wrap themselves up in our misery. del.] "Who make up a heaven of our misery."
________________________________________
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 Chinese Boy and Girl

The Chinese
Boy and Girl
BY
ISAAC TAYLOR HEADLAND
OF PEKING UNIVERSITY
Author of Chinese Mother Goose Rhymes
Fleming H. Revell Company
NEW YORKCHICAGOTORONTO
Copyright, 1901 by Fleming H. Revell Company (September)
THE CAXTON PRESS NEW YORK.
PREFACE
No thorough study of Chinese child life can be made until the wall of Chinese exclusiveness is broken down and the homes of the East are thrown open to the people of the West. Glimpses of that life however, are available, sufficient in number and character to give a fairly good idea of what it must be. The playground is by no means always hidden, least of all when it is the street. The Chinese nurse brings her Chinese rhymes, stories and games into the foreigner's home for the amusement of its little ones. Chinese kindergarten methods and appliances have no superior in their ingenuity and their ability to interest, as well as instruct. In the matter of travelling shows and jugglers also, no country is better supplied, and these are chiefly for the entertainment of the little ones.
To the careful observer of these different phases it becomes apparent that the Chinese child is well supplied with methods of exercise and amusement, also that he has much in common with the children of other lands. A large collection of toys shows many duplicates of those common in the West, and from the nursery rhymes of at least two out of the eighteen provinces it appears that the Chinese nursery is rich in Mother Goose. As a companion to the "Chinese Mother Goose," this book seeks to show that the same sunlight fills the homes of both East and West. If it also leads their far-away mates to look upon the Chinese Boy and Girl as real little folk, human like themselves, and thus think more kindly of them, its mission will have been accomplished.
CONTENTS
$_{page}$
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 1942, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 81 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 Chimney Sweeper (Blake, 1794)

The Chimney Sweeper is a poem by William Blake, published in Songs of Innocence and of Experience in 1794. It is located early in Songs of Experience, between The Little Girl Found and Nurse's Song. This poem is best understood when read in conjunction with the corresponding poem, The Chimney Sweep, in the Songs of Innocence.
    — Excerpted from The Chimney Sweeper on Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia.
The first stanza is a testimony that describes the situation of a little chimney sweeper in the snow who is crying and calling for his parents while they are praying at the church. In the second and third stanzas, the child explains his situation. He describes that he had been happy and “smiled among the winter snow,” but also he was taught to suffer when he says “and taught me to sing the notes of woe.” Adults are mentioned in the poem when he questioned “Where are thy father and mother?” and when he says “God & his Priest & King.” Finally he blames “they” and adds “who make up a heaven of our misery.”
The poem is pictured by an engraving made by Blake himself. It shows the child walking along a street, it is a rainy day and he is alone. Furthermore, the boy is barefoot and dirty. With his right hand he is holding a brusher and is carrying a dirty, big bag on his back. The rain is particularly dark. The final point is that the child is looking at the storm with what it seems a sad expression in his face.
* "The Chimney Sweeper" in Songs of Experience (1794)―for versions, see Songs of Innocence and of Experience
* The Chimney Sweeper (Notebook) (c. 1793-4), 1st draft of the poem The Chimney Sweeper (1794) by William Blake in his Notebook
# The Boarded-Up House

* information about this edition.
* sister projects: Commons category.
A juvenile mystery story predating Nancy Drew. Two young girls—much fired up by their devouring of Sherlock Holmes stories—seek to penetrate the mystery of their neighbor's house, boarded-up and musty, nobody knows why.
Audiobook at librivox
Both girls gasped and stared simultaneously
THE BOARDED-UP HOUSE
BY
AUGUSTA HUIELL SEAMAN
Author of "Jacqueline of the Carrier Pigeons," etc
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
C. CLYDE SQUIRES
NEW YORK
THE CENTURY CO. 1923
Copyright, 1915 by The Century co.
Published March 1915
Printed in U. S. A

### CONTENTS

* GOLIATH LEADS THE WAY
* IN SEARCH OF ADVENTURE
* AMATEUR DETECTIVES
* THE ROOM OF MYSTERY
* JOYCE MAKES A NEW DISCOVERY. SO DOES GOLIATH
* JOYCE'S THEORY
* GOLIATH MAKES ANOTHER DISCOVERY
* CYNTHIA HAS AN IDEA
* THE MEMORIES OF GREAT-AUNT LUCIA
* AN EXCITING DISCOVERY
* THE ROOM THAT WAS LOCKED
* A SLIGHT DISAGREEMENT
* THE GREAT ILLUMINATION
* THE MEDDLING OF CYNTHIA
* THE STRANGER AT THE DOOR
* JOYCE EXPLAINS
* IN WHICH ALL MYSTERIES ARE SOLVED
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 1950, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 73 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 Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/In the Old South

IN THE “OLD SOUTH”
On the 8th of July, 1677, Margaret Brewster with four other Friends went into the South Church in time of meeting, “in sackcloth, with ashes upon her head, barefoot, and her face blackened,” and delivered “a warning from the great God of Heaven and Earth to the Rulers and Magistrates of Boston.” For the offence she was sentenced to be “whipped at a cart’s tail up and down the Town, with twenty lashes.”
She came and stood in the Old South Church, A wonder and a sign, With a look the old-time sibyls wore, Half-crazed and half-divine.
Save the mournful sackcloth about her wound, Unclothed as the primal mother, With limbs that trembled and eyes that blazed With a fire she dare not smother.
Loose on her shoulders fell her hair, With sprinkled ashes gray; She stood in the broad aisle strange and weird As a soul at the judgment day.
And the minister paused in his sermon’s midst, And the people held their breath, For these were the words the maiden spoke Through lips as the lips of death:
“Thus saith the Lord, with equal feet All men my courts shall tread, And priest and ruler no more shall eat My people up like bread!
“Repent! repent! ere the Lord shall speak In thunder and breaking seals! Let all souls worship Him in the way His light within reveals.”
She shook the dust from her naked feet, And her sackcloth closer drew, And into the porch of the awe-hushed church She passed like a ghost from view.
They whipped her away at the tail o’ the cart Through half the streets of the town, But the words she uttered that day nor fire Could burn nor water drown.
And now the aisles of the ancient church By equal feet are trod, And the bell that swings in its belfry rings Freedom to worship God!
And now whenever a wrong is done It thrills the conscious walls; The stone from the basement cries aloud And the beam from the timber calls.
There are steeple-houses on every hand, And pulpits that bless and ban, And the Lord will not grudge the single church That is set apart for man.
For in two commandments are all the law And the prophets under the sun, And the first is last and the last is first, And the twain are verily one.
So long as Boston shall Boston be, And her bay-tides rise and fall, Shall freedom stand in the Old South Church And plead for the rights of all!
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/Invocation

INVOCATION
Through Thy clear spaces, Lord, of old, Formless and void the dead earth rolled; Deaf to Thy heaven’s sweet music, blind To the great lights which o’er it shined; No sound, no ray, no warmth, no breath,— A dumb despair, a wandering death.
To that dark, weltering horror came Thy spirit, like a subtle flame,— A breath of life electrical, Awakening and transforming all, Till beat and thrilled in every part The pulses of a living heart.
Then knew their bounds the land and sea; Then smiled the bloom of mead and tree; From flower to moth, from beast to man, The quick creative impulse ran; And earth, with life from thee renewed, Was in thy holy eyesight good.
As lost and void, as dark and cold And formless as that earth of old; A wandering waste of storm and night, Midst spheres of song and realms of light; A blot upon thy holy sky, Untouched, unwarned of thee, am I.
O Thou who movest on the deep Of spirits, wake my own from sleep!
Its darkness melt, its coldness warm, The lost restore, the ill transform, That flower and fruit henceforth may be Its grateful offering, worthy Thee.
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/Inscriptions

INSCRIPTIONS
ON A SUN-DIAL
FOR DR. HENRY I. BOWDITCH
With warning hand I mark Time’s rapid flight From life’s glad morning to its solemn night; Yet, through the dear God’s love, I also show There ’s Light above me by the Shade below.
ON A FOUNTAIN
FOR DOROTHEA L. DIX
Stranger and traveller, Drink freely and bestow A kindly thought on her Who bade this fountain flow, Yet hath no other claim Than as the minister Of blessing in God’s name. Drink, and in His peace go!
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/King Solomon and the Ants

KING SOLOMON AND THE ANTS
Out from Jerusalem The king rode with his great War chiefs and lords of state, And Sheba’s queen with them;
Comely, but black withal, To whom, perchance, belongs That wondrous Song of songs, Sensuous and mystical,
Whereto devout souls turn In fond, ecstatic dream, And through its earth-born theme The Love of loves discern.
Proud in the Syrian sun, In gold and purple sheen, The dusky Ethiop queen Smiled on King Solomon.
Wisest of men, he knew The languages of all The creatures great or small That trod the earth or flew.
Across an ant-hill led The king’s path, and he heard Its small folk, and their word He thus interpreted:
“Here comes the king men greet As wise and good and just, To crush us in the dust Under his heedless feet.”
The great king bowed his head, And saw the wide surprise Of the Queen of Sheba’s eyes As he told her what they said.
“O king!” she whispered sweet, “Too happy fate have they Who perish in thy way Beneath thy gracious feet!
“Thou of the God-lent crown, Shall these vile creatures dare Murmur against thee where The knees of kings kneel down?”
“Nay,” Solomon replied, “The wise and strong should seek The welfare of the weak,” And turned his horse aside.
His train, with quick alarm, Curved with their leader round The ant-hill’s peopled mound, And left it free from harm.
The jewelled head bent low; “O king!” she said, “henceforth
The secret of thy worth And wisdom well I know.
“Happy must be the State Whose ruler heedeth more The murmurs of the poor Than flatteries of the great.”
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/Italy

ITALY
Across the sea I heard the groans Of nations in the intervals Of wind and wave. Their blood and bones Cried out in torture, crushed by thrones, And sucked by priestly cannibals.
I dreamed of Freedom slowly gained By martyr meekness, patience, faith, And lo! an athlete grimly stained, With corded muscles battle-strained, Shouting it from the fields of death!
I turn me, awe-struck, from the sight, Among the clamoring thousands mute, I only know that God is right, And that the children of the light Shall tread the darkness under foot.
I know the pent fire heaves its crust, That sultry skies the bolt will form To smite them clear; that Nature must The balance of her powers adjust, Though with the earthquake and the storm.
God reigns, and let the earth rejoice! I bow before His sterner plan. Dumb are the organs of my choice; He speaks in battle’s stormy voice, His praise is in the wrath of man!
Yet, surely as He lives, the day Of peace He promised shall be ours, To fold the flags of war, and lay Its sword and spear to rust away, And sow its ghastly fields with flowers!
# The Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier/Laus Deo!

LAUS DEO!
On hearing the bells ring on the passage of the constitutional amendment abolishing slavery. The resolution was adopted by Congress, January 31, 1865. The ratification by the requisite number of States was announced December 18, 1865. [The suggestion came to the poet as he sat in the Friends’ Meeting-house in Amesbury, where he was present at the regular Fifth-day meeting. All sat in silence, but on his return to his home, he recited a portion of the poem, not yet committed to paper, to his housemates in the garden room. “It wrote itself, or rather sang itself, while the bells rang,” he wrote to Lucy Larcom.]
It is done! Clang of bell and roar of gun Send the tidings up and down. How the belfries rock and reel! How the great guns, peal on peal, Fling the joy from town to town!
Ring, O bells! Every stroke exulting tells Of the burial hour of crime. Loud and long, that all may hear, Ring for every listening ear Of Eternity and Time!
Let us kneel: God’s own voice is in that peal, And this spot is holy ground. Lord, forgive us! What are we, That our eyes this glory see, That our ears have heard the sound!
For the Lord On the whirlwind is abroad; In the earthquake He has spoken; He has smitten with His thunder The iron walls asunder, And the gates of brass are broken!
Loud and long Lift the old exulting song; Sing with Miriam by the sea, He has cast the mighty down; Horse and rider sink and drown; “He hath triumphed gloriously!”
Did we dare, In our agony of prayer, Ask for more than He has done?
When was ever His right hand Over any time or land Stretched as now beneath the sun?
How they pale, Ancient myth and song and tale, In this wonder of our days, When the cruel rod of war Blossoms white with righteous law, And the wrath of man is praise!
Blotted out! All within and all about Shall a fresher life begin; Freer breathe the universe As it rolls its heavy curse On the dead and buried sin!
It is done! In the circuit of the sun Shall the sound thereof go forth. It shall bid the sad rejoice, It shall give the dumb a voice, It shall belt with joy the earth!
Ring and swing, Bells of joy! On morning’s wing Send the song of praise abroad! With a sound of broken chains Tell the nations that He reigns, Who alone is Lord and God!
# The Collected Works of Mahatma Gandhi/Volume 14

October 1917 – July 1918
THE COLLECTED WORKS OF
MAHATMA GANDHI
XIV
(October 1917 — July 1918)
THE PUBLICATIONS DIVISION
MINISTRY OF INFORMATION AND BROADCASTING
GOVERNMENT OF INDIA
# The Chronicle of Clemendy/The Lord Maltworm's First Tale

THE LORD MALTWORM'S FIRST TALE
WHEN WE had sufficiently nourished our internal juices by dining I let my three worshipful jokers know that there was a spacious shadow ready for them on the lawn, where I had caused chairs to be set as easy as I had, for a man who has made a good dinner needs gentle treatment and a little luxury of comfort, so that he may meditate on nothing, and stroke himself down without let or hindrance. Some people cannot sit still and do nothing even after dinner, they must still be fretting and fuming, still reforming, still settling matters right. O miserable race of men; tell me how comes it that there is any wrong or crookedness upon the earth, for since your great Originall began to mend our fortunes, you, his apes, have never ceased to botch, to rip, to tear, to drive in nails and pull them out, to loosen the tight and to tighten the loose, and all the while to go solemnly to work, to use long words and to drink cold water. But we four Silurians were not of this Reforming and Beautifying company, and were able to sit very still in the shade, watching the sunlight play upon the trees, and the filmy clouds floating across the sky, and listening to the ripple of the brook as it sped over the stones toward Caerleon. Phil Ambrose the Spigot Clerk who had in the morning told the rare tale of Sir ​Jenkin, was especially resigned and calm, and leant back in his elbow chair, smoking a mighty long clay pipe, seeming to my eyes a very mellow personage and a dignified also, if you take away his shape, for he was a little barrel of a man. And after he had sat thus somewhile he began to be inquisitive and to ask questions about old sayings and proverbs and those quaint words used by our forefathers, which we now hold for condemned or at least suspect. But I believe that if we persevere in this sort much longer a man will be ashamed to speak of his belly or his guts, and be shown the door if he name these members in a polite assembly. However that may be, nothing passed between us worthy of note, for it is not good for a man to put out his mind in the afternoon, the which has been provided for us to dream in, and talk lightly, and idly to pursue small love-affairs; for I deny not that this petty exertion is to be allowed after four o'clock; indeed if properly discharged it may give a man a gust for his supper. But I forbid all kissing, since this amusement makes one warm, and is hard to leave off, besides.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Culloden

Culloden.
[Nicholson.—Air, "O, are ye sleeping, Maggie?"]
The heath-cock craw'd o'er muir and dale, Red raise the sun, the sky was cloudy, While must'ring far wi' distant yell, The northern bands march'd stern and steady. O! Duncan, Donald's ready! O! Duncan, Donald's ready! Wi' sword an' targe he seeks the charge, An' frae his shouther flings the plaidie.
Nae mair we chase the fleet-foot roe, O'er down an' dale, o'er mountain flyin': But rush like tempests on the foe, Through mingled groans the war-note cryin'. O! Duncan, Donald's ready! &c.
A prince is come to claim his ain, A stem o' Stuart, frien'less Charlie; What Highlan' han' its blade wad hain? What Highlan' heart behint would tarry? O! Duncan, Donald's ready!
I see our hardy clans appear, The sun back frae their blades is beamin'; The southron trump falls on my ear, Their banner'd lion's proudly streamin'. Now, Donald, Duncan's ready! Now, Donald, Duncan's ready! Within his hand he grasps his brand; Fierce is the fray, the field is bluidy! ​But lane shall Scotland rue the day, She saw her flag sae fiercely flying; Culloden hills were hills o' wae; Her laurels torn, her warriors dying. Duncan now nae mair is ready, Duncan now nae mair is ready! The brand is fa'en frae out his han', His bonnet blue lies stain'd an' bluidy!
Fair Flora's gane her love to seek, Lang may she wait for his returnin'; The midnight dews fa' on her cheek; What han' shall dry her tears o' mournin'? Duncan now nae mair is ready, &c.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Craigie-burn-wood 2

Craigie-burn-wood.
[This is another version of Craigie-burn-wood which Burns sent to Thomson's collection.]
Sweet fa's the eve on Craigie-burn, And blithe awakes the morrow; But a' the pride o' spring's return Can yield me nocht but sorrow.
I see the flowers and spreading trees, I hear the wild birds singing; But what a weary wight can please, And care his bosom wringing?
Fain, fain would I my griefs impart, Yet dare na for your anger; But secret love will break my heart, If I conceal it longer.
If thou refuse to pity me, If thou shalt love anither, When yon green leaves fade frae the tree Around my grave they'll wither.