OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Poems of Felicia Hemans in The Literary Souvenir, 1826/The Child and Dove

LADY LOUISA JANE RUSSELL. YOUNGEST DAUGHTER OF HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF BEDFORD From the Statue by Chantrey at Woburn Abbey
Drawn by Henry CorbouldEngraved by J. Thomson
THE CHILD AND DOVE.
SUGGESTED BY CHANTREY'S STATUE OF LADY LOUISA RUSSELL.
BY MRS. HEMANS.
I.
Thou art a thing on our dreams to rise,
'Midst the echoes of long-lost melodies,
And to fling bright dew from the morning back,
Fair form, on each image of Childhood's track!
II.
Thou art a thing to recall the hours
When the love of our souls was on leaves and flowers;
When a world was our own in some dim, sweet grove,
And treasure untold in one captive Dove!
III.
Are they gone? can we think it, while thou art there,
Thou radiant child with the clustering hair?
Is it not Spring that indeed breathes free
And fresh o'er each thought, as we gaze on thee?
IV. No! never more may we smile as thou
Sheddest round smiles from thy sunny brow!
Yet something it is, in our hearts to shrine,
A memory of beauty, undimmed as thine!
V.
To have met the joy of thy speaking face,
To have felt the spell of thy breezy grace;
To have lingered before thee, and turned, and borne
One vision away of the cloudless morn!
# Poems of Felicia Hemans in The Literary Souvenir, 1825/The Mother and Child

* Painted by W. Brockedon.Engraved by W. Humphreys.
* THE MOTHER AND CHILD.
THE MOTHER AND CHILD.
BY MRS. HEMANS.
Where art thou, Boy?—Heaven, heaven! the babe is playing  Even on the margin of the dizzy steep! Haste—hush! a breath, my agony betraying,  And he is gone!—beneath him rolls the deep! Could I but keep the bursting cry suppress'd, And win him back in silence to my breast!
Thou'rt safe!—Thou com'st, with smiles my fond arms meeting,  Blest, fearless child!—I, I have tasted death! Nearer! that I may feel thy warm heart beating!  And see thy bright hair floating in my breath! Nearer! to still my bosom's yearning pain,— I clasp thee now, mine own! thou'rt here again!
# Poems of Felicia Hemans in The Literary Souvenir, 1826

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.
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Poems of Felicia Hemans in The Literary Souvenir, 1826
Compiled by Peter J. Bolton
Contents
* The Wreck
* Aymer's Tomb
* The Child and Dove
* The Troubadour, and Richard Cœur de Lion
# Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke (1918)/Maiden Melancholy

​MAIDEN MELANCHOLY
A young knight comes into my mind As from some myth of old.
He came! You felt yourself entwined As a great storm would round you wind. He went! A blessing undefined Seemed left, as when church-bells declined And left you wrapt in prayer. You fain would cry aloud—but bind Your scarf about you and tear-blind Weep softly in its fold.
A young knight comes into my mind Full armored forth to fare.
His smile was luminously kind Like glint of ivory enshrined, Like a home longing undivined, Like Christmas snows where dark ways wind, Like sea-pearls about turquoise twined, Like moonlight silver when combined With a loved book's rare gold.
# Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke (1918)/Pont du Carrousel

​PONT DU CARROUSEL
Upon the bridge the blind man stands alone, Gray like a mist veiled monument he towers As though of nameless realms the boundary stone About which circle distant starry hours.
He seems the center around which stars glow While all earth's ostentations surge below.
Immovably and silently he stands Placed where the confused current ebbs and flows; Past fathomless dark depths that he commands A shallow generation drifting goes . . .
# Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke (1918)/Madness

​MADNESS
She thinks: I am—Have you not seen? Who are you then, Marie? I am a Queen, I am a Queen! To your knee, to your knee!
And then she weeps: I was—a child— Who were you then, Marie? Know you that I was no man's child, Poor and in rags—said she.
And then a Princess I became To whom men bend their knees; To princes things are not the same As those a beggar sees.
And those things which have made you great Came to you, tell me, when? One night, one night, one night quite late, Things became different then.
I walked the lane which presently With strung chords seemed to bend; Then Marie became Melody And danced from end to end. ​The people watched with startled mien And passed with frightened glance For all know that only a Queen May dance in the lanes: dance! . . .
# Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke (1918)/Music

​MUSIC
What play you, O Boy? Through the garden it stole Like wandering steps, like a whisper—then mute; What play you, O Boy? Lo! your gypsying soul Is caught and held fast in the pipes of Pan's flute.
And what conjure you? Imprisoned is the song, It lingers and longs in the reeds where it lies; Your young life is strong, but how much more strong Is the longing that through your music sighs.
Let your flute be still and your soul float through Waves of sound formless as waves of the sea, For here your song lived and it wisely grew Before it was forced into melody.
Its wings beat gently, its note no more calls, Its flight has been spent by you, dreaming Boy! Now it no longer steals over my walls— But in my garden I'd woo it to joy.
# Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke (1918)/Maidens

​MAIDENS.I
Others must by a long dark way Stray to the mystic bards, Or ask some one who has heard them sing Or touch the magic chords. Only the maidens question not The bridges that lead to Dream; Their luminous smiles are like strands of pearls On a silver vase agleam.
The maidens' doors of Life lead out Where the song of the poet soars, And out beyond to the great world— To the world beyond the doors.
​MAIDENS.II
Maidens the poets learn from you to tell How solitary and remote you are, As night is lighted by one high bright star They draw light from the distance where you dwell.
For poet you must always maiden be Even though his eyes the woman in you wake Wedding brocade your fragile wrists would break, Mysterious, elusive, from him flee.
Within his garden let him wait alone Where benches stand expectant in the shade Within the chamber where the lyre was played Where he received you as the eternal One.
Go! It grows dark—your voice and form no more His senses seek; he now no longer sees A white robe fluttering under dark beech trees Along the pathway where it gleamed before.
He loves the long paths where no footfalls ring, And he loves much the silent chamber where Like a soft whisper through the quiet air He hears your voice, far distant, vanishing. ​The softly stealing echo comes again From crowds of men whom, wearily, he shuns; And many see you there—so his thought runs— And tenderest memories are pierced with pain.
# Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke (1918)/Mary Virgin

​MARY VIRGIN
How came, how came from out thy night Mary, so much light And so much gloom: Who was thy bridegroom?
Thou callest, thou callest and thou hast forgot That thou the same art not Who came to me In thy Virginity.
I am still so blossoming, so young. How shall I go on tiptoe From childhood to Annunciation Through the dim twilight Into thy Garden.
# Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke (1918)/Moonlight Night

​MOONLIGHT NIGHT
South-German night! the ripe moon hangs above Weaving enchantment o'er the shadowy lea. From the old tower the hours fall heavily Into the dark as though into the sea— A rustle, a call of night-watch in the grove, Then for a while void silence fills the air; And then a violin (from God knows where) Awakes and slowly sings: Oh Love . . . Oh Love . . .
# Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke (1918)/Maidens at Confirmation

​MAIDENS AT CONFIRMATION
(Paris in May, 1903)
The white veiled maids to confirmation go Through deep green garden paths they slowly wind; Their childhood they are leaving now behind: The future will be different, they know.
Oh! Will it come? They wait—It must come soon! The next long hour slowly strikes at last, The whole house stirs again, the feast is past, And sadly passes by the afternoon . . .
Like resurrection were the garments white The wreathed procession walked through trees arched wide Into the church, as cool as silk inside, With long aisles of tall candles flaming bright: The lights all shone like jewels rich and rare To solemn eyes that watched them gleam and flare.
Then through the silence the great song rose high Up to the vaulted dome like clouds it soared, Then luminously, gently down it poured— Over white veils like rain it seemed to die. ​The wind through the white garments softly stirred And they grew vari-coloured in each fold And each fold hidden blossoms seemed to hold And flowers and stars and fluting notes of bird, And dim, quaint figures shimmering like gold Seemed to come forth from distant myths of old.
Outside the day was one of green and blue, With touches of a luminous glowing red, Across the quiet pond the small waves sped. Beyond the city, gardens hidden from view Sent odors of sweet blossoms on the breeze And singing sounded through the far off trees.
It was as though garlands crowned everything And all things were touched softly by the sun; And many windows opened one by one And the light trembled on them glistening.
# Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke (1918)/Memories of a Childhood

​MEMORIES OF A CHILDHOOD
The darkness hung like richness in the room When like a dream the mother entered there And then a glass's tinkle stirred the air Near where a boy sat in the silent gloom.
The room betrayed the mother—so she felt— She kissed her boy and questioned "Are you here?" And with a gesture that he held most dear Down for a moment by his side she knelt.
Toward the piano they both shyly glanced For she would sing to him on many a night, And the child seated in the fading light Would listen strangely as if half entranced,
His large eyes fastened with a quiet glow Upon the hand which by her ring seemed bent And slowly wandering o'er the white keys went Moving as though against a drift of snow.
# Poems of Rainer Maria Rilke (1918)/Offering

​OFFERING
My body glows in every vein and blooms To fullest flower since I first knew thee, My walk unconscious pride and power assumes; Who art thou then—thou who awaitest me?
When from the past I draw myself the while I lose old traits as leaves of autumn fall; I only know the radiance of thy smile, Like the soft gleam of stars, transforming all.
Through childhood's years I wandered unaware Of shimmering visions my thoughts now arrests To offer thee, as on an altar fair That's lighted by the bright flame of thy hair And wreathéd by the blossoms of thy breasts.
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/Hymn 1

HYMN
SUNG AT THE SECOND CHURCH, AT THE ORDINATION OF REV. CHANDLER ROBBINS
We love the venerable house Our fathers built to God;— In heaven are kept their grateful vows, Their dust endears the sod.
​Here holy thoughts a light have shed From many a radiant face, And prayers of humble virtue made The perfume of the place.
And anxious hearts have pondered here The mystery of life, And prayed the eternal Light to clear Their doubts, and aid their strife.
From humble tenements around Came up the pensive train, And in the church a blessing found That filled their homes again;
For faith and peace and mighty love That from the Godhead flow, Showed them the life of Heaven above Springs from the life below.
They live with God; their homes are dust; Yet here their children pray, And in this fleeting lifetime trust To find the narrow way.
On him who by the altar stands, On him thy blessing fall, Speak through his lips thy pure commands, Thou heart that lovest all.
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/Illusions

ILLUSIONS
Flow, flow the waves hated, Accursed, adored, The waves of mutation; No anchorage is. Sleep is not, death is not; Who seem to die live. House you were born in, Friends of your spring-time, Old man and young maid, Day's toil and its guerdon, They are all vanishing, Fleeing to fables, Cannot be moored. See the stars through them, Through treacherous marbles. Know the stars yonder, The stars everlasting, Are fugitive also, And emulate, vaulted, The lambent heat lightning And fire-fly's flight.
When thou dost return On the wave's circulation, ​Behold the shimmer, The wild dissipation, And, out of endeavor To change and to flow, The gas become solid, And phantoms and nothings Return to be things, And endless imbroglio Is law and the world,— Then first shalt thou know, That in the wild turmoil, Horsed on the Proteus, Thou ridest to power, And to endurance.
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/Inscription for a Well in Memory of the Martyrs of the War

INSCRIPTION FOR A WELL IN MEMORY OF THE MARTYRS OF THE WAR
Fall, stream, from Heaven to bless; return as well; So did our sons; Heaven met them as they fell.
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/Hymn 2

HYMN
There is in all the sons of men A love that in the spirit dwells, That panteth after things unseen, And tidings of the future tells.
And God hath built his altar here To keep this fire of faith alive, And sent his priests in holy fear To speak the truth—for truth to strive.
And hither come the pensive train Of rich and poor, of young and old, Of ardent youth untouched by pain, Of thoughtful maids and manhood bold.
They seek a friend to speak the word Already trembling on their tongue, To touch with prophet's hand the chord Which God in human hearts hath strung.
To speak the plain reproof of sin That sounded in the soul before, And bid you let the angels in That knock at meek contrition's door.
​A friend to lift the curtain up That hides from man the mortal goal, And with glad thoughts of faith and hope Surprise the exulting soul.
Sole source of light and hope assured, O touch thy servant's lips with power, So shall he speak to us the word Thyself dost give forever more. June, 1831.
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/I have an arrow that will find its mark

I have an arrow that will find its mark, A mastiff that will bite without a bark.
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/I bear in youth the sad infirmities

I bear in youth the sad infirmities That use to undo the limb and sense of age; It hath pleased Heaven to break the dream of bliss Which lit my onward way with bright presage, And my unserviceable limbs forego. The sweet delight I found in fields and farms, On windy hills, whose tops with morning glow, And lakes, smooth mirrors of Aurora's charms. Yet I think on them in the silent night, Still breaks that morn, though dim, to Memory's eye, And the firm soul does the pale train defy Of grim Disease, that would her peace affright. Please God, I 'll wrap me in mine innocence, And bid each awful Muse drive the damned harpies hence.
Cambridge, 1827.
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Cabinet of Modern Art, 1837/The Gipsy

* A GIPSY
* Painted by Francis RochardEngraved by T. Hollis
THE GIPSY.
BY MISS LANDON.
I.
I live by the side of the greenwood tree,
The elm and the ash are companions to me;
Through the shadowy lanes with the summer I roam,
And the hedge with the hawthorn in bloom is my home!
II.
I know where the primrose first welcomes the south,
Like a love-kiss—the last from a pale and sweet mouth,
Which dies in its sorrow, and dying reveals,
Too late and too vainly, the love which it feels!
III.
The earliest violets breathe, through the grass,
A message that woos me to stay as I pass;
For I am the first, in the spring, to discover
Their blue eyes, that laugh as they welcomed a lover.
IV.
The morning is glad and the morning is fair,
Song, sunshine, and fragrance awake in the air;
I feel like a flower that rejoices in light—
Yet dearer to me is the presence of night.
V.
For then I am conscious of knowledge and power,—
I see the clear planets, each bright in its hour,—
I look in the depth of their light for a sign,—
I ask of the future, and know it for mine.
VI.
I trace on the cards what the stars of night tell;
The past is before me—the heart is my spell:
To me, the sweet hope—the fond secret—is known,
The feelings of others are read by my own.
VII.
Nay, fear not, fair lady! your life’s coming hours,
They are clear as the stars, and as fair as the flowers;
There is one for whose sake to the greenwood you came;—
Oh! lady—you blush!—shall I whisper his name?
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Cabinet of Modern Art, 1837/The Welcome

* THE WELCOME
* Painted by E. T. ParrisEngraved by H. Shenton
THE WELCOME.
BY MISS L. E. LANDON.
I.
Fling the banners from the battlements—
 Hang garlands on the walls!—
Today Lord Ulric comes again
 To his ancestral halls.
II.
Long time he has been absent—
 Long time with sword in hand;—
Now they have tamed the crescent
 In every christian land.
III.
The boy he left an infant
 He will not find the same,—
The feet can run the greensward,
 The lips can name his name.
IV.
There are three that now await him,
 And bless the ended strife,—
The boy that will not know him,
 His sister, and his wife.
V.
His sister waiteth tenderly,—
 But, in her hidden heart,
She thinketh of another,
 With whom she wept to part.
VI.
The child is all impatience—
 With many a childish word,
He questions of his father,
 And of his horse and sword.
VII.
But one is thinking only
 Of him—the victor knight;—
She trembles at the honours
 He has achieved in fight.
VIII.
Still doth her pale lip quiver
 At dangers that are done;—
Ah, sadly to a woman
 Her warrior's praise is won!
IX.
She gazes on the distance,
 Until her eyes are dim,
And not a cloud that passes
 But she believes it him.
X.
Night after night, her vigils
 Have worn away her bloom;
How often has she started
 Beside a fancied tomb!
XI.
There is no love like woman's,—
 By distance made more dear;
That grows more true and tender
 With every falling tear.
XII.
She is pale with joy—she sees him!
 The warrior-chief is come!
She looks—she cannot speak it—
 "Lord Ulric, welcome home!"
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Casket, 1829

Poems listed are excerpted from The Casket, a Miscellany (1829)
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 Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Casket 1829
compiled by Peter J. Bolton
Contents
* Song - Dream, dream, let me dream
* The Fountain
* Change
* Fairy Land
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Casket, 1829/Change

CHANGE.
I only asked, oh! let me hear
 That dearest voice again,
Altho', lute-like, its notes had lost
 Their old accustomed strain.
I did not ask that words of love
 Upon thy lips should be;
I did not ask that thou shouldst breathe
 Of other days to me;
I did not say, give me the rose,
 Altho' it was so dear,
I only prayed to live within
 Its perfum'd atmosphere.
We met; what did that meeting teach
 But what I long have known—
That thou wert changed, yet that my heart
 Was utterly thine own.
Somewhat of sorrow or of shame
 I looked to meet in thee,
Tho' Love had lost all else, I deemed
 He must keep memory.
No colour came upon thy cheek,
 No change within thine eye,
There was not even a fault'ring word,
 Not even a single sigh.
The wound is deepened in my heart,
 My last vain fancy o'er,
And now I only ask of Heaven—
 To look on thee no more.
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Casket, 1829/Song

SONG.
Dream, dream, let me dream,
Wherefore should I waken,
Sleep is as a fairy land
Not yet by spells forsaken.
Break not on the gentle charm
In which night has bound me,
Wherefore, wherefore should I wake
To the cold world around me?
Dreaming only, faithless love
Will not win to leave us;
Dreaming only, may we trust
Hope will not deceive us;
Dreaming, memory can forget
Its corroding sorrow:—
Night forgets that as to-day
So will be to-morrow.
There are opiates for the heart,
In its anguish breaking,
Spells of light to witch the cares
Whose darkness haunts us waking.
Dream, dream, let me dream,
Wherefore should I waken—
To know my heart is as a grave,
By hope and love forsaken.
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Bijou, 1829/Tivoli

1828
* THE CASCADE OF TIVOLI.
* Artist: Henning - Engraved by: W. J. Cooke
TIVOLI.
BY L. E. L.
Rushing, like uncurbed passion, thro' the rocks Which it has riven with a giant's strength Down came the gushing waters, heaped with foam, Like melted pearl, and filling the dark woods With thunder tuned to music.
When last I gazed, fair Tivoli, Upon those falls of thine, Another step was by my side, Another hand in mine: And, mirrored in those gentle eyes, To me thou wert a paradise.
I've smiled to see her sweet lips move, Yet not one accent hear, Lost in thy mighty waterfall, Altho' we were so near, My breath was fragrant with the air The rose-wreath gave she wont to wear.
How often have we past the noon Beneath thy pine-trees' shade, When arching bough, and dark green leaf, A natural temple made; Haunt of some young divinity, And more than such she seemed to me.
So very fair, oh! how I blest The gentle southern clime, That to the beauty of her cheek Had brought back summer time. Alas! 'twas but a little while,— The promise of an April smile.
Again her clear brow turned too clear; Her bright cheek turned too bright; And her eyes, but for tenderness, Had been too full of light. It was as if her beauty grew More heavenly as it heavenward drew.
Long years have past, and toil and care Have sometimes been to me, What in my earliest despair I dream't not they could be; But here the past comes back again, Oh! why so utterly in vain?
I stood here in my happy days, And every thing was fair; I stand now in my altered mood, And marvel what they were. Fair Tivoli, to me the scene No longer is what it has been.
There is a change come o'er thy hills, A shadow o'er thy sky; The shadow is from my own heart, The change in my own eye: It is our feelings give their tone To whatsoe'er we gaze upon.
Back to the stirring world again, Its tumult and its toil; Better to tread the roughest path, Than such a haunted soil: Oh! wherefore should I break the sleep Of thoughts whose waking is to weep.
Yes, thou art lovely, but alas! Not lovely as of yore, And of thy beauty I but ask; To look on it no more. Earth does not hold a spot for me So sad as thou, fair Tivoli.
# Poems of Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Cabinet of Modern Art, 1837

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 Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in The Cabinet of Modern Art, 1837
compiled by Peter J. Bolton
* La Rosa Parlante
* The Gipsy
* The Welcome