OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919/Captains Adventurous

CAPTAINS ADVENTUROUS
CAPTAINS adventurous, from your ports of quiet, From the ghostly harbours, where your sea-beat galleons lie, Say, do your dreams go back across the sea-line Where cliffs of England rise grey against the sky?
Say, do you dream of the pleasant ports of old-time— Orchards of old Devon, all afoam with snowy bloom? Or have the mists that veil the Sea of Shadows Closed from your eyes all the memories of home?
Feet of the Captains hurry through the stillness, Ghostly sails of galleons are drifting to and fro, Voices of mariners sound across the shadows, Waiting the word that shall bid them up and go.
"Lo, now," they say, "for the grey old Mother calls us," (Listening to the thunder of the guns about her shore,) "Death shall not hold us, nor years that lie between us, Sail we to England to strike for her once more."
​Captains adventurous, rest ye in your havens, Pipe your ghostly mariners to keep their watch below, Sons of your sons are here to strike for England, Heirs of your glory—Beatty, Jellicoe.
Yet shall your names ring on in England's story, You who were the prophets of the mighty years to be, Drake, Blake and Nelson, thundering down the ages, Captains adventurous, the Masters of the Sea.
Norah M. Holland
# A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919/Christmas, 1915

CHRISTMAS: 1915
NOW is the midnight of the nations: dark Even as death, beside her blood-dark seas, Earth, like a mother in birth agonies, Screams in her travail, and the planets hark Her million-throated terror. Naked, stark, Her torso writhes enormous, and her knees Shudder against the shadowed Pleiades, Wrenching the night's imponderable arc.
Christ! What shall be delivered to the morn Out of these pangs, if ever indeed another Morn shall succeed this night, or this vast mother Survive to know the blood-spent offspring, torn From her racked flesh?—What splendour from the smother? What new-wing'd world, or mangled god still-born?
Percy MacKaye
# A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919/Cambrai and Marne

CAMBRAI AND MARNE
BEFORE our trenches at Cambrai We saw their columns cringe away. We saw their masses melt and reel Before our line of leaping steel.
A handful to their storming hordes We scourged them with the scourge of swords, And still, the more we slew, the more Came up, for every slain a score.
Between the hedges and the town Their cursing squadrons we rode down. To stay them we outpoured our blood Between the beetfields and the wood.
In that red hell of shrieking shell Unfaltering our gunners fell. They fell, or ere the day was done, Beside the last unshattered gun.
​But still we held them, like a wall On which the breakers vainly fall— Till came the word, and we obeyed, Reluctant, bleeding, undismayed.
Our feet, astonished, learned retreat, Our souls rejected still defeat. Unbroken still, a lion at bay, We drew back grimly from Cambrai.
In blood and sweat, with slaughter spent, They thought us beaten as we went; Till suddenly we turned and smote The shout of triumph in their throat.
At last, at last we turned and stood— And Marne's fair water ran with blood. We stood by trench and steel and gun, For now the indignant flight was done.
We ploughed their shaken ranks with fire. We trod their masses into mire. Our sabres drove through their retreat, As drives the whirlwind through young wheat.
At last, at last we flung them back Along their drenched and smoking track. We hurled them back, in blood and flame, The reeking ways by which they came.
By cumbered road and desperate ford, How fled their shamed and harassed horde! Shout, Sons of Freemen, for the day When Marne so well avenged Cambrai.
Charles G. D. Roberts
# A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919/Captain Guynemer

CAPTAIN GUYNEMER
WHAT high adventure, in what world afar, Follows to-day, Mid ampler air, Heroic Guynemer? What star, Of all the myriad planets of our night, Is by his glowing presence made more bright Who chose the Dangerous way, Scorning, while brave men died, ignobly safe to stay?
Into the unknown Vast, Where few could follow him, he passed,— On to the gate—the shadowy gate— Of the Forbidden, Seeking the knowledge jealous Fate Had still so carefully from mortals hidden.
​With vision falcon-keen, His eyes beheld what others had not seen, And his soul, with as clear a gaze, Pierced through each clouded maze Straight to the burning heart of things, and knew The lying from the true.
A dweller in Immensity, Of naught afraid, He saw the havoc Tyranny had made,— Saw the relentless tide of War's advance, And high of heart and free, Vowed his young life to Liberty— And France!
O Compiègne! be proud of him—thy son,— The greatest of the eagle brood,— Who with intrepid soul the foe withstood, And rests, his victories won! Mourn not uncomforted, but rather say:— His wings were broken, but he led the way Where myriad stronger wings shall follow; For Wrong shall not hold lasting sway, To break the World's heart, nor betray With cruel pledges hollow!
To us the battle draweth near. We dedicate ourselves again, Remembering, O Compiègne! Thy Charioteer— Thy peerless one, who died to make men free, And in Man's grateful heart shall live immortally!
Florence Earle Coates
# A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919/Champagne, 1914-15

CHAMPAGNE, 1914—15
IN the glad revels, in the happy fêtes, When cheeks are flushed, and glasses gilt and pearled With the sweet wine of France that concentrates The sunshine and the beauty of the world,
Drink sometimes, you whose footsteps yet may tread The undisturbed, delightful paths of Earth, To those whose blood, in pious duty shed, Hallows the soil where that same wine had birth.
Here, by devoted comrades laid away, Along our lines they slumber where they fell, Beside the crater at the Ferme d'Alger And up the bloody slopes of La Pompelle,
​And round the city whose cathedral towers The enemies of Beauty dared profane, And in the mat of multicoloured flowers That clothe the sunny chalk-fields of Champagne
Under the little crosses where they rise The soldier rests. Now round him undismayed The cannon thunders, and at night he lies At peace beneath the eternal fusillade . . .
That other generations might possess— From shame and menace free in years to come A richer heritage of happiness, He marched to that heroic martyrdom,
Esteeming less the forfeit that he paid Than undishonoured that his flag might float Over the towers of liberty, he made His breast the bulwark and his blood the moat.
Obscurely sacrificed, his nameless tomb, Bare of the sculptor's art, the poet's lines, Summer shall flush with poppy-fields in bloom, And Autumn yellow with maturing vines
There the grape-pickers at their harvesting Shall lightly tread and load their wicker trays, Blessing his memory as they toil and sing In the slant sunshine of October days . . .
I love to think that if my blood should be So privileged to sink where his has sunk, I shall not pass from Earth entirely, But when the banquet rings, when healths are drunk,
And faces that the joys of living fill Glow radiant with laughter and good cheer, In beaming cups some spark of me shall still Brim toward the lips that once I held so dear.
​So shall one coveting no higher plane Than nature clothes in colour and flesh and tone, Even from the grave put upward to attain The dreams youth cherished and missed and might have known:
And that strong need that strove unsatisfied Toward earthly beauty in all forms it wore, Not death itself shall utterly divide From the belovèd shapes it thirsted for.
Alas, how many an adept for whose arms Life held delicious offerings perished here, How many in the prime of all that charms, Crowned with all gifts that conquer and endear!
Honour them not so much with tears and flowers, But you with whom the sweet fulfilment lies, Where in the anguish of atrocious hours Turned their last thoughts and closed their dying eyes,
Rather when music on bright gatherings lays Its tender spell, and joy is uppermost, Be mindful of the men they were, and raise Your glasses to them in one silent toast.
Drink to them—amorous of dear Earth as well, They asked no tribute lovelier than this— And in the wine that ripened where they fell, Oh, frame your lips as though it were a kiss.
Alan Seeger
Champagne, France, July, 1915.
# A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919/Channel Sunset

CHANNEL SUNSET
OVER the shallow, angry English Channel, Clouds like cavalry masses Gallop at a charge, dark tawny horsemen, Towards the coast of Flanders.
The sun strikes out amid them A shower of golden arrows; They waver suddenly in mid-flight, Break their ranks, stumble and fall, And cover with scarlet eddies The shallows of the sea.
But over their heads new masses yet come charging Towards the coast of Flanders; Towards the battle that is shaping, The struggle of burning spears in the cold twilight.
John Gould Fletcher
# A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919/Chaplain to the Forces

AUXILIARIES
CHAPLAIN TO THE FORCES
["I have once more to remark upon the devotion to duty, courage, and contempt of danger which has characterized the work of the Chaplains of the Army throughout this campaign."—Sir John French, in the Neuve Chapelle dispatch.]
AMBASSADOR of Christ you go Up to the very gates of Hell, Through fog of powder, storm of shell, To speak your Master's message: "Lo, The Prince of Peace is with you still, His peace be with you, His good-will."
It is not small, your priesthood's price, To be a man and yet stand by, To hold your life while others die. To bless, not share the sacrifice, To watch the strife and take no part— You with the fire at your heart.
But yours, for our great Captain Christ, To know the sweat of agony, The darkness of Gethsemane, In anguish for these souls unpriced. Vicegerent of God's pity you, A sword must pierce your own soul through.
​In the pale gleam of new-born day, Apart in some tree-shadowed place, Your altar but a packing case, Rude as the shed where Mary lay, Your sanctuary the rain-drenched sod, You bring the kneeling soldier God.
As sentinel you guard the gate 'Twixt life and death, and unto death Speed the brave soul whose failing breath Shudders not at the grip of Fate, But answers, gallant to the end, "Christ is the Word—and I His friend."
Then God go with you, priest of God, For all is well and shall be well. What though you tread the roads of Hell, Your Captain these same ways has trod. Above the anguish and the loss Still floats the ensign of His Cross.
Winifred M. Letts
# A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919/Canada to England

CANADA
CANADA TO ENGLAND
GREAT names of thy great captains gone before Beat with our blood who have that blood of thee: Raleigh and Grenville, Wolfe, and all the free Fine souls who dared to front a world in war. Such only may outreach the envious years Where feebler crowns and fainter stars remove, Nurtured in one remembrance and one love Too high for passion and too stern for tears.
O little isle our fathers held for home, Not, not alone thy standards and thy hosts Lead where thy sons shall follow, Mother Land: Quick as the north wind, ardent as the foam, Behold, behold the invulnerable ghosts Of all past greatnesses about thee stand.
Marjorie L. C. Pickthall
# A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919/Canadians

CANADIANS
WITH arrows on their quarters and with numbers on their hoofs, With the trampling sound of twenty that re-echoes in the roofs, Low of crest and dull of coat, wan and wild of eye, Through our English village the Canadians go by.
Shying at a passing cart, swerving from a car, Tossing up an anxious head to flaunt a snowy star, Racking at a Yankee gait, reaching at the rein, Twenty raw Canadians are tasting life again!
Hollow-necked and hollow-flanked, lean of rib and hip, Strained and sick and weary with the wallow of the ship, Glad to smell the turf again, hear the robin's call, Tread again the country road they lost at Montreal!
Fate may bring them dule and woe; better steeds than they Sleep beside the English guns a hundred leagues away; But till war hath need of them, lightly lie their reins, Softly fall the feet of them along the English lanes.
Will H. Ogilvie
# A treasury of war poetry, British and American poems of the world war, 1914-1919/Christ in Flanders

CHRIST IN FLANDERS
WE had forgotten You, or very nearly— You did not seem to touch us very nearly— Of course we thought about You now and then; Especially in any time of trouble— We knew that You were good in time of trouble— But we are very ordinary men.
And there were always other things to think of— There's lots of things a man has got to think of— His work, his home, his pleasure, and his wife; And so we only thought of You on Sunday— Sometimes, perhaps, not even on a Sunday— Because there's always lots to fill one's life.
​And, all the while, in street or lane or byway— In country lane, in city street, or byway— You walked among us, and we did not see. Your feet were bleeding as You walked our pavements How did we miss Your Footprints on our pavements?— Can there be other folk as blind as we?
Now we remember: over here in Flanders— (It isn't strange to think of You in Flanders)— This hideous warfare seems to make things clear. We never thought about You much in England— But now that we are far away from England— We have no doubts, we know that You are here.
You helped us pass the jest along the trenches— Where, in cold blood, we waited in the trenches— You touched its ribaldry and made it fine. You stood beside us in our pain and weakness— We're glad to think You understand our weakness— Somehow it seems to help us not to whine.
We think about You kneeling in the Garden— Ah! God! the agony of that dread Garden— We know You prayed for us upon the Cross. If anything could make us glad to bear it— 'Twould be the knowledge that You willed to bear it— Pain—death—the uttermost of human loss.
Though we forgot You—You will not forget us— We feel so sure that You will not forget us— But stay with us until this dream is past. And so we ask for courage, strength, and pardon— Especially, I think, we ask for pardon— And that You'll stand beside us to the last.
Mrs. C. T. Whitmell
# Aard-wolf

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Aard-wolf."
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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.
* "Aard-wolf," in Collier's New Encyclopedia, New York: P. F. Collier & Son Co. (1921)
* "Aard-wolf," in Encyclopædia Britannica (11th ed., 1911)
# Aarhus

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Aarhus."
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* "Aarhus," in Encyclopædia Britannica (11th ed., 1911)
* "Aarhus," in Catholic Encyclopedia, (ed.) by Charles G. Herbermann and others, New York: The Encyclopaedia Press (1913)
# Aaron's Rod (Lawrence)

AARON'S ROD
BY D. H. LAWRENCE
New York THOMAS SELTZER 1922
Copyright, 1922, by THOMAS SELTZER, Inc. —— All rights reserved
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
CONTENTS
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 1930, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 93 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
# Aaron's Rod

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Aaron's Rod."
* 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.
* Aaron's Rod, a 1922 novel by D. H. Lawrence
* "Aaron's Rod," in Encyclopædia Britannica (11th ed., 1911)
# Aargau

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Aargau."
* 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.
* "Aargau," in Collier's New Encyclopedia, New York: P. F. Collier & Son Co. (1921)
* "Aargau," in Encyclopædia Britannica (11th ed., 1911)
# Aaron

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Aaron."
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Commons category, 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.

### Encyclopaedia articles

* "Aaron," in Encyclopædia Britannica, Ninth Edition (1) (1878)
* "Aaron," by John Weeks Moore in Complete Encyclopaedia of Music, Boston: Oliver Ditson Company (1880)
* "Aaron," in Easton's Bible Dictionary (1897)
* "Aaron," in The Jewish Encyclopedia, (ed.) by Isidore Singer, New York and London: Funk and Wagnalls (1901-06)
* "Aaron," in The Nuttall Encyclopædia, (ed.) by James Wood, London: Frederick Warne and Co., Ltd. (1907)
* "Aaron," in Encyclopædia Britannica (11th ed., 1911)
* "Aaron," in Catholic Encyclopedia, (ed.) by Charles G. Herbermann and others, New York: The Encyclopaedia Press (1913)
* "Aaron," in The New Student's Reference Work, Chicago: F.E. Compton and Co. (1914)
* "Aaron," in Collier's New Encyclopedia, New York: P. F. Collier & Son Co. (1921)
* "Aaron", in A Dictionary of the Book of Mormon (1891), by George Reynolds
* "Aaron (II)", in A Dictionary of the Book of Mormon (1891), by George Reynolds
* "Aaron (III)", in A Dictionary of the Book of Mormon (1891), by George Reynolds
# A Short Biographical Dictionary of English Literature/Hunt, James Henry Leigh

​Hunt, James Henry Leigh (1784-1859).—Essayist and poet, was b. at Southgate, and ed. at Christ's Hospital. A selection of his earliest poems was pub. by his f. in 1801 under the title of Juvenilia. In 1805 he joined his brother John in conducting a paper, the News, which the latter had started. Thereafter the brothers embarked upon the Examiner, a paper of pronounced Radical views. The appearance in this journal of an article on the Prince Regent in which he was described in words which have been condensed into "a fat Adonis of fifty," led to H. being fined £500 and imprisoned for two years. With his customary genial philosophy, however, the prisoner made the best of things, turned his cell into a study, with bookcases and a piano, and his yard into a garden. He had the sympathy of many, and received his friends, including Byron, Moore, and Lamb. On his release he pub. his poem, The Story of Rimini. Two other vols. of poetry followed, The Feast of the Poets and Foliage, in 1814 and 1818 respectively. In the latter year he started the Indicator, a paper something in the style of the Spectator or Tatler, and after this had run its course the Companion, conceived on similar lines, took its place in 1828. In 1822 H. went to Italy with Byron, and there established the Liberal, a paper which did not prove a success. Disillusioned with Byron, H. returned home, and pub. in 1828 Lord Byron and his Contemporaries, a work which gave great offence to Byron's friends, who accused the author of ingratitude. In 1834 H. started the London Journal, which he ed. for two years. Among his later works are Captain Sword and Captain Pen (1835), The Palfrey, a poem, A Legend of Florence (drama), Imagination and Fancy (1844), Wit and Humour (1846), A Jar of Honey from Mount Hybla (1848), The Old Court Suburb (1855), The Town, Sir Ralph Esher, a novel, and his Autobiography (1850). Although his poems have considerable descriptive power and brightness, he had not the depth and intensity to make a poet, and his reputation rests rather upon his essays, which are full of a genial philosophy, and display a love of books, and everything pleasant and beautiful. He did much to popularise the love of poetry and literature in general among his fellow-countrymen.
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# A Short Biographical Dictionary of English Literature/Hutcheson, Francis

​Hutcheson, Francis (1694-1746).—Philosopher, b. in Ireland, and ed. for the Presbyterian ministry at Glasgow Univ. After keeping an academy at Dublin for some years he pub. his Enquiry into Beauty and Virtue, which won for him a great reputation. In 1729 he became Prof. of Moral Philosophy at Glasgow, where he exercised a great influence over his students, and also upon the Scottish system of philosophy. In his philosophical views he was to some extent a disciple of Shaftesbury. He introduced the term, ​"moral sense," which he defined as a power of perceiving moral attributes in action. His System of Moral Philosophy appeared posthumously in two vols.
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# A Short Biographical Dictionary of English Literature/Innes, Cosmo

​Innes, Cosmo (1798-1874).—Historian and antiquary, was called to the Scottish Bar in 1822, and was appointed Prof. of Constitutional Law and History in the Univ. of Edin. in 1846. He was the author of Scotland in the Middle Ages (1860), and Sketches of Early Scottish History (1861). He also ed. many historical MSS. for the Bannatyne and other antiquarian clubs. Much learning is displayed in his works.
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# A Short Biographical Dictionary of English Literature/Innes, Thomas

​Innes, Thomas (1662-1744).—Historian, was descended from an old Roman Catholic family in Aberdeenshire. He studied in Paris at the Scots Coll., of which he became Principal. He was the author of two learned works, Critical Essay on the Ancient Inhabitants of the Northern Parts of Britain (1729), and Civil and Ecclesiastical History of Scotland, 80 to 818 (pub. by the Spalding Club, 1853).
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# A Short Biographical Dictionary of English Literature/Hurd, Richard

​Hurd, Richard (1720-1808).—Divine, and miscellaneous writer, b. at Congreve, Staffordshire, was ed. at Camb., and entering the Church, became Bishop successively of Lichfield and Worcester. He produced an ed. of the Ars Poetica of Horace, Dissertations on Poetry, Dialogues on Sincerity, Letters on Chivalry and Romance, and An Introduction to the Prophecies. He was in 1783 offered, but declined, the Primacy.
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# A Short Biographical Dictionary of English Literature/Hutchinson, Mrs. Lucy

​Hutchinson, Mrs. Lucy (b. 1620).—Biographer, dau. of Sir Allan Apsley, Lieutenant of the Tower of London, m. in 1638 John, afterwards Colonel, Hutchinson, one of those who signed the death-warrant of Charles I., but who afterwards protested against the assumption of supreme power by Cromwell. She has a place in literature for her Life of her husband, one of the most interesting biographies in the language, not only on account of its immediate subject, but of the light which it throws upon the characteristics and conditions of the life of Puritans of good family. Originally intended for her family only, it was printed by a descendant in 1806, and did much to clear away the false impressions as to the narrowness and austerity of the educated Puritans which had prevailed. Colonel H. and his wife were noble representatives of their class.
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