OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/Dirge

DIRGE
CONCORD, 1838
I reached the middle of the mount Up which the incarnate soul must climb, And paused for them, and looked around, With me who walked through space and time.
Five rosy boys with morning light Had leaped from one fair mother's arms, Fronted the sun with hope as bright, And greeted God with childhood's psalms.
Knows he who tills this lonely field To reap its scanty corn, What mystic fruit his acres yield At midnight and at morn?
In the long sunny afternoon The plain was full of ghosts; I wandered up, I wandered down, Beset by pensive hosts.
​The winding Concord gleamed below, Pouring as wide a flood As when my brothers, long ago, Came with me to the wood.
But they are gone,—the holy ones Who trod with me this lovely vale; The strong, star-bright companions Are silent, low and pale.
My good, my noble, in their prime, Who made this world the feast it was, Who learned with me the lore of time, Who loved this dwelling-place!
They took this valley for their toy, They played with it in every mood; A cell for prayer, a hall for joy,— They treated Nature as they would.
They colored the horizon round; Stars flamed and faded as they bade, All echoes hearkened for their sound,— They made the woodlands glad or mad,
I touch this flower of silken leaf, Which once our childhood knew; Its soft leaves wound me with a grief Whose balsam never grew.
​Hearken to yon pine-warbler Singing aloft in the tree! Hearest thou, O traveller, What he singeth to me?
Not unless God made sharp thine ear With sorrow such as mine, Out of that delicate lay could'st thou Its heavy tale divine.
'Go, lonely man,' it saith; 'They loved thee from their birth; Their hands were pure, and pure their faith,— There are no such hearts on earth.
'Ye drew one mother's milk, One chamber held ye all; A very tender history Did in your childhood fall.
'You cannot unlock your heart, The key is gone with them; The silent organ loudest chants The master's requiem.'
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/Eros

EROS
The sense of the world is short,— Long and various the report,— To love and be beloved; Men and gods have not outlearned it; And, how oft soe'er they 've turned it, Not to be improved.
# Poems (Curwen)/Babyland

BABYLAND.
# Poems (Dorr)/Questioning a Rose

Error: Invalid interval
# Ooze

* "Ooze" in Weird Tales, 1 (1) (March 1923)
* "Ooze," in The Moon Terror (ed. A. G. Birch, 1927)
* "Ooze" in Weird Tales, 44 (2) (January 1952)
* Ooze (1987) published in Nightmares of Dixie.
# Oonts

* "Oonts" in Ballads and Barrack-Room Ballads (1892)
* "Oonts" in Departmental Ditties and Ballads and Barrack-Room Ballads (1919)
# Ooo, Ooo, Lena!

* information about this edition.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
Song from the musical The Girl from Montmartre.
[Verse 1]
    PRALINE. When Lena was a naughty girl her mother used to say
    "Ooo, Ooo, Lena!"
    She got into some diff'rent kind of trouble ev'ry day.
    GIRLS. "Ooo, Ooo, Lena!"
    PRALINE. She'd slip into the cupboard just as quiet as a clam
    And steal her fill of pasty tarts of jellies and of jam,
    The first time mother caught her was the first time she said, "Sh!"
    GIRLS. Ooo, Ooo, Lena!
[Refrain]
    PRALINE. Ooo, Ooo, ts, ts, ts, Lena was so wild,
    People used to wonder "what will happen to the child?"
    Ooo,
    GIRLS. Ooo, ts, ts, ts,
    PRALINE. She was so indiscreet,
    But Somehow little Lena always landed on her feet,
    Lena landed on her
    GIRLS. Rum tum tiddle diddle,
    Rum tum tiddle diddle,
    Rum tum tiddle diddle,
    Tra, la, la, la, la, la, la.
[Verse 2]
    PRALINE. One day she thought she'd have a swim and stay away from school
    "Ooo, Ooo, Lena!"
    She took of mostly all her clothes and paddled in the pool.
    GIRLS. "Ooo, Ooo, Lena!"
    PRALINE. A sudden shriek and Lena sank when from the bushes slid
    A man, who fished her out but seemed ashamed of having hid,
    Said Lena "Don't apologize I'm very glad you did!"
    GIRLS. Ooo, Ooo, Lena!
[Verse 3]
    PRALINE.One day she said to mother this here town is awful slow
    "Ooo, Ooo, Lena!"
    I've got what's known as Wanderlust and so I guess I'll go
    GIRLS. "Ooo, Ooo, Lena!"
    PRALINE. She got aboard a train without a single sou you see
    And simply said Conductor, can't you let me go through free?
    "And when she smiled he answered that seem fare enough to me!"
    GIRLS.Ooo, Ooo, Lena!
[Verse 4]
    PRALINE. When Lena reached the city why the queerest things occurred,
    "Ooo, Ooo, Lena!"
    The way folks fell for Lena's smile was really most absurd.
    GIRLS. "Ooo, Ooo, Lena!"
    PRALINE. For ev'ry man who saw it went immediately wild
    And offered rings and other things unto the angel child,
    And she accepted evry thing that came her way and smiled!
    GIRLS. Ooo, Ooo, Lena!
[Verse 5]
    PRALINE. Now Lena's poor old folks at home got poorer ev'ry year
    "Ooo, Ooo, Lena!"
    Kept losing all their money as they'd lost their Lena, dear.
    GIRLS. "Ooo, Ooo, Lena!"
    PRALINE. They quite made up their minds that she had surely come to harm
    When one day she came home and there was no cause for alarm,
    She'd make enough to take the darned old mortgage off the farm!
    GIRLS. Oh you, Lena!
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 1955, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 68 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
# Poems (Dunn)

POEMS
by
SARAH JANE DUNN
POEMS.
POEMS
by
SARAH JANE DUNN.
PRINTED FOR THE BENEFIT OF
THE AUTHORESS.
1870.
CHISWICK PRESS:—PRINTED BY WHITTINGHAM AND WILKINS,
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE.
* Preface
* My Sister
* Starlight
CHISWICK PRESS:—WHITTINGHAM AND WILKINS,
TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE.
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
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Song : "My Love is Fairer than the Tasselled Corn"

SONG
MY love is fairer than the tasseled corn That matches with its gold the golden day; My love is sweeter than the breath of morn Fragrant with new-mown hay. There 's nothing dearer or more tender, And day by day the Graces lend her A smile, a tear, to bind the heart And keep it hers alway!
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/The Christ of the Andes

THE CHRIST OF THE ANDES
FAR, far the mountain-peak from me Where lone he stands, with look caressing; Yet from the valley, wistfully I lift my dreaming eyes, and see His hand stretched forth in blessing.
Never bird sings nor blossom blows Upon that summit chill and breathless Where throned he waits amid the snows; But from his presence wide outflows Love that is warm and deathless!
O Symbol of the great release From war and strife!—unfailing fountain To which we turn for joy's increase, Fain would we climb to heights of Peace— Thy peace upon the mountain!
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Song : "Her Cheek is Like a Tinted Rose"

SONG
HER cheek is like a tinted rose That June hath fondly cherished, Her heart is like a star that glows When day hath darkling perished, Her voice is as a songbird's sweet, The drowsy wolds awaking— But, ah, her love is past compare, And keeps my heart from breaking!
Lost sunbeams light her tresses free, Along their shadows gleaming! Her smiles entangle memory And set the soul a-dreaming, Her thoughts, like seraphs, upward soar, Earth's narrow bounds forsaking— But, ah, her love abides with me And keeps my heart from breaking!
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Song : "If Love Were Not, the Wilding Rose"

SONG
IF love were not, the wilding rose Would in its leafy heart inclose No chalice of perfume;
By mossy bank, in glen or grot, No bird would build, if love were not, No flower complacent bloom.
The sunset clouds would lose their dyes, The light would fade from beauty's eyes, The stars their fires consume;
And something missed from hall and cot Would leave the world, if love were not, A wilderness of gloom.
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Song of Life

SONG OF LIFE
MAIDEN of the laughing eyes, Primrose-kirtled, wingèd, free, Virgin daughter of the skies— Joy!—whom gods and mortals prize, Share thy smiles with me!
Yet—lest I, unheeding, borrow Pleasure that to-day endears, And benumbs the heart to-morrow, Turn not wholly from me, Sorrow! Let me share thy tears!
Give me of thy fullness, Life! Pulse and passion, power, breath, Vision pure, heroic strife,— Give me of thy fullness, Life!— Nor deny me death!
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/The "Penseur"

Published in The North American Review (March 1914)
THE "PENSEUR"
(ON SEEING THE FAMOUS STATUE)
RODIN'S it was—this vital thing, this Soul, This striving force imprisoned in clay, This monster Shape inert, held in control By that it doth enshrine: Rodin's it was; but, ah, to-day It is the world's—and mine!
What mystery here is meant? Is this Time's great event— This creature earthward sent With subtle might against himself to strive— To struggle upward from the brutish thing And, ruling the blood's rioting, Keep the celestial spark in him alive?
What miracle is meant, Suggested by this frame relaxed and bent? What wonders to this Titan are revealed, Sitting enisled and motionless as if Lone on some cloud-invested Teneriffe? ​Inward and inward still his vision sinks. What does he here?—He thinks!
Thought is the travail that absorbs him thus; Himself the workshop, most mysterious, Wherein are wrought what human strengths there be. Detached, aloof, with eyes that seem to stare Beyond us and beyond apparent things, He gazes far into futurity, And doth with gods unbourned horizons share. For thoughts, upborne on never-tiring wings, Boldly adventure regions foul and fair: To Hades sink, then rise to Heaven again, Still finding everywhere The mystic threads whereof are joy and pain Shaped in the penetralia of the brain!
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Song : "For Me the Jasmine Buds Unfold"

SONG
FOR me the jasmine buds unfold And silver daisies star the lea, The crocus hoards the sunset gold, And the wild rose breathes for me. I feel the sap through the bough returning, I share the skylark's transport fine, I know the fountain's wayward yearning, I love, and the world is mine!
I love, and thoughts that sometime grieved, Still well remembered, grieve not me; From all that darkened and deceived Upsoars my spirit free. For soft the hours repeat one story, Sings the sea one strain divine; My clouds arise all flushed with glory,— I love, and the world is mine!
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/Song : "Friendship from its Moorings Strays"

SONG
FRIENDSHIP from its moorings strays, Love binds fast together; Friendship is for balmy days, Love for stormy weather.
For itself the one contends, Fancied wrongs regretting— Love the thing it loves defends, All besides forgetting.
Friendship is the morning lark Toward the sunrise winging, Love the nightingale, at dark Most divinely singing!
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/The Burial of Robert Louis Stevenson at Samoa

THE BURIAL OF ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON AT SAMOA
WHERE shall we lay you down to rest? Where will you sleep the very best? Mirthful and tender, dear and true— Where shall we find a grave for you?
They thought of a spirit as brave as light, And they bore him up to a lonely height, And they laid him there, where he loved to be, On a mountain gazing o'er the sea!
They thought of a soul aflood with song, And they buried him where the summer long Myriad birds his requiem sing, And the echoing woods about him ring!
They thought of a love that life redeems, Of a heart the home of perfect dreams, And they left him there, where the worlds aspire In the sunrise glow and the sunset fire!
# Poems (Coates 1916)/Volume I/The Chosen

THE CHOSEN
DEATH pitying stood before one bent and old, And said:—"Forbear your griefs, and go with me: The tale of your misfortunes—all is told, And I am come at last to set you free."
But, lo! the man fell trembling to his knees, Affrighted, and entreating in sad plight:— "Though poverty and pain deny me ease, Yet spare me!—but a day—a single night!"
Then Death, disdaining misery so base, Turned, silently, and sought whom life held dear. He found you, my belovèd! in the place You glorified, and touched you with his spear;
And as one startled wakes from a fair dream He fain would dream again, if that might be, You looked on Death clothed in his might supreme, And gave yourself to him,—forgetting me.
​All beauteous in the blossom-time of youth, Ere yet a cloud your radiance could dim,— You knew him for God's messenger, in truth, And like an angel, went away with him.
# Poems (Tree)/Now is the Evening Dipped Knee-Deep in Blood

​SMOKE
# Poems (Rossetti, 1901)/A Christmas Carol

DEVOTIONAL PIECES
# Poems of Charles Baudelaire/Beauty

Beauty.
I am as lovely as a dream in stone, And this my heart where each finds death in turn, Inspires the poet with a love as lone As clay eternal and as taciturn.
Swan-white of heart, a sphinx no mortal knows, My throne is in the heaven's azure deep; I hate all movements that disturb my pose, I smile not ever, neither do I weep.
Before my monumental attitudes,
That breathe a soul into the plastic arts, My poets pray in austere studious moods,
For I, to fold enchantment round their hearts, Have pools of light where beauty flames and dies, The placid mirrors of my luminous eyes.
# Poems of Charles Baudelaire/Sonnet of Autumn

Sonnet of Autumn.
They say to me, thy clear and crystal eyes:  “Why dost thou love me so, strange lover mine?” Be sweet, be still! My heart and soul despise  All save that antique brute-like faith of thine ;
And will not bare the secret of their shame  To thee whose hand soothes me to slumbers long, Nor their black legend write for thee in flame!  Passion I hate, a spirit does me wrong.
Let us love gently. Love, from his retreat, Ambushed and shadowy, bends his fatal bow, And I too well his ancient arrows know:
Crime, horror, folly. O pale marguerite, Thou art as I, a bright sun fallen low, O my so white, my so cold Marguerite.
# Poems of Charles Baudelaire/Don Juan in Hades

Don Juan in Hades.
When Juan sought the subterranean flood,  And paid his obolus on the Stygian shore, Charon, the proud and sombre beggar, stood  With one strong, vengeful hand on either oar.
With open robes and bodies agonised,  Lost women writhed beneath that darkling sky; There were sounds as of victims sacrificed :  Behind him all the dark was one long cry.
And Sganarelle, with laughter, claimed his pledge ;  Don Luis, with trembling finger in the air, Showed to the souls who wandered in the sedge  The evil son who scorned his hoary hair.
Shivering with woe, chaste Elvira the while,  Near him untrue to all but her till now, Seemed to beseech him for one farewell smile  Lit with the sweetness, of the first soft vow.
And clad in armour, a tall man of stone  Held firm the helm, and clove the gloomy flood ; But, staring at the vessel’s track alone,  Bent on his sword the unmoved hero stood.
# Poems of Charles Baudelaire/Reversibility

Reversibility.
Angel of gaiety, have you tasted grief?  Shame and remorse and sobs and weary spite,  And the vague terrors of the fearful night That crush the heart up like a crumpled leaf? Angel of gaiety, have you tasted grief?
Angel of kindness, have you tasted hate?  With hands clenched in the shade and tears of gall,  When Vengeance beats her hellish battle-call, And makes herself the captain of our fate, Angel of kindness, have you tasted hate?
Angel of health, did ever you know pain,  Which like an exile trails his tired footfalls  The cold length of the white infirmary walls, With lips compressed, seeking the sun in vain? Angel of health, did ever you know pain?
Angel of beauty, do you wrinkles know?  Know you the fear of age, the torment vile  Of reading secret horror in the smile Of eyes your eyes have loved since long ago? Angel of beauty, do you wrinkles know?
Angel of happiness, and joy, and light,  Old David would have asked for youth afresh  From the pure touch of your enchanted flesh; I but implore your prayers to aid my plight, Angel of happiness, and joy, and light.
# Poems of Charles Baudelaire/Contemplation

Contemplation.
Thou, O my Grief, be wise and tranquil still,
The eve is thine which even now drops down,
To carry peace or care to human will,
And in a misty veil enfolds the town.
While the vile mortals of the multitude,
By pleasure, cruel tormentor, goaded on,
Gather remorseful blossoms in light mood—
Grief, place thy hand in mine, let us be gone
Far from them. Lo, see how the vanished years,
In robes outworn lean over heaven's rim;
And from the water, smiling through her tears,
Remorse arises, and the sun grows dim;
And in the east, her long shroud trailing light,
List, O my grief, the gentle steps of Night.
# Poems of Charles Baudelaire/Correspondences

Correspondences.
In Nature’s temple living pillars rise,  And words are murmured none have understood,  And man must wander through a tangled wood Of symbols watching him with friendly eyes.
As long-drawn echoes heard far-off and dim  Mingle to one deep sound and fade away ;  Vast as the night and brilliant as the day, Colour and sound and perfume speak to him.
Some perfumes are as fragrant as a child,  Sweet as the sound of hautboys, meadow-green ; Others, corrupted, rich, exultant, wild,
Have all the expansion of things infinite:  As amber, incense, musk, and benzoin, Which sing the sense’s and the soul’s delight.
# Poems of Charles Baudelaire/Exotic Perfume

Exotic Perfume.
When with closed eyes in autumn's eves of gold  I breathe the burning odours of your breast,  Before my eyes the hills of happy rest Bathed in the sun's monotonous fires, unfold.
Islands of Lethe where exotic boughs  Bend with their burden of strange fruit bowed down,  Where men are upright, maids have never grown Unkind, but bear a light upon their brows.
Led by that perfume to these lands of ease, I see a port where many ships have flown With sails outwearied of the wandering seas ;
While the faint odours from green tamarisks blown, Float to my soul and in my senses throng, And mingle vaguely with the sailor's song.
# Poems of Charles Baudelaire/La Beatrice

La Beatrice.
In a burnt, ashen land, where no herb grew,
I to the winds my cries of anguish threw;
And in my thoughts, in that sad place apart,
Pricked gently with the poignard o’er my heart.
Then in full noon above my head a cloud
Descended tempest-swollen, and a crowd
Of wild, lascivious spirits huddled there,
The cruel and curious demons of the air,
Who coldly to consider me began;
Then, as a crowd jeers some unhappy man,
Exchanging gestures, winking with their eyes—
I heard a laughing and a whispering rise:
"Let us at leisure contemplate this clown,
This shadow of Hamlet aping Hamlet's frown,
With wandering eyes and hair upon the wind.
Is’t not a pity that this empty mind,
This tramp, this actor out of work, this droll,
Because he knows how to assume a rôle
Should dream that eagles and insects, streams and woods,
Stand still to hear him chaunt his dolorous moods? Even unto us, who made these ancient things,
The fool his public lamentation sings."
With pride as lofty as the towering cloud,
I would have stilled these clamouring demons loud,
And turned in scorn my sovereign head away
Had I not seen—O sight to dim the day!—
There in the middle of the troupe obscene
The proud and peerless beauty of my Queen!
She laughed with them at all my dark distress,
And gave to each in turn a vile caress.
# Poems of Charles Baudelaire/Robed in a Silken Robe

Robed in a Silken Robe.
Robed in a silken robe that shines and shakes,
She seems to dance whene'er she treads the sod,
Like the long serpent that a fakir makes
Dance to the waving cadence of a rod.
As the sad sand upon the desert's verge,
Insensible to mortal grief and strife;
As the long weeds that float among the surge,
She folds indifference round her budding life.
Her eyes are carved of minerals pure and cold,
And in her strange symbolic nature where
An angel mingles with the sphinx of old,
Where all is gold and steel and light and air,
For ever, like a vain star, unafraid
Shines the cold hauteur of the sterile maid.
# Poems of Charles Baudelaire/Spleen

Spleen.
I'm like some king in whose corrupted veins Flows agèd blood; who rules a land of rains; Who, young in years, is old in all distress; Who flees good counsel to find weariness Among his dogs and playthings, who is stirred Neither by hunting-hound nor hunting-bird; Whose weary face emotion moves no more E'en when his people die before his door. His favourite Jester's most fantastic wile Upon that sick, cruel face can raise no smile; The courtly dames, to whom all kings are good, Can lighten this young skeleton's dull mood No more with shameless toilets. In his gloom Even his lilied bed becomes a tomb. The sage who takes his gold essays in vain To purge away the old corrupted strain, His baths of blood, that in the days of old The Romans used when their hot blood grew cold, Will never warm this dead man's bloodless pains, For green Lethean water fills his veins.
# Poems of Felicia Hemans in The Juvenile Keepsake, 1829/A Farewell Song

A FAREWELL SONG.
BY MRS. HEMANS.
I go, sweet friends! yet think of me
 When spring's low voice awakes the flowers,
For we have wandered far and free
 In those bright hours—the violet's hours!
I go—but when you pause to hear
 From distant hills the sabbath-bell
On summer's wind float silvery clear,
 Think of me then—I loved it well!
Forget me not around your hearth
 When clearly shines the ruddy blaze;
For dear hath been its hour of mirth
 To me, sweet friends! in other days.
And oh! when music's voice is heard
 To melt in strains of parting woe,
When hearts to tender thought are stirr'd,
 Think of me then!—I go, I go!
# Poems of Felicia Hemans in The Juvenile Keepsake, 1829/A Thought of Home at Sea

A THOUGHT OF HOME AT SEA.
BY MRS. HEMANS.
'Tis lone on the waters
 When Eve's mournful bell
Sends forth to the sunset
 A note of farewell!
When borne with the shadows
 And winds as they sweep,
There comes a fond memory
 Of Home o'er the deep!
When the wing of the sea-bird
 Is turn'd to her nest,
And the heart of the sailor
 To all he loves best.
'Tis lone on the waters—
 That hour hath a spell
To bring back sweet voices  And words of farewell!
# Poems of Felicia Hemans in The Literary Souvenir, 1825

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
This work is available under the Creative Commons CC0 1.0 Universal Public Domain Dedication.
The person who associated a work with this deed has dedicated the work to the public domain by waiving all of their rights to the work worldwide under copyright law, including all related and neighboring rights, to the extent allowed by law. You can copy, modify, distribute and perform the work, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
Poems of Felicia Hemans in The Literary Souvenir, 1825
compiled by Peter J. Bolton
Contents
* The Mother and Child
* The Grave of Körner
* Autograph
# Poems of Felicia Hemans in The Literary Souvenir, 1825/Autograph

Page 383
From autographs of the living Poets of England