OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Dora (Tennyson, 1887)/Front matter

D O R A
by
ALFRED TENNYSON
ILLUSTRATED
BOSTON
LEE AND SHEPARD, PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK
CHARLES T. DILLINGHAM
1887
Copyright, 1886,
By Lee and Shepard.
All rights reserved.
DORA.
PRESS OF Rockwell and Churchill,
ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. L. TAYLOR
DRAWN AND ENGRAVED UNDER THE SUPERVISION OF
GEORGE T. ANDREW.
# Doran v. Petroleum Management Corp.

* related portals: United States Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
* Court Documents
* Opinion of the Court
* 545 F.2d 893
* William H. DORAN, Jr., Plaintiff-Appellant,
* v.
* PETROLEUM MANAGEMENT CORP., Morton A. Sterling and O. W. Fauntleroy, Defendants-Appellees
* No. 74-3972
* United States Court of Appeals, Fifth Circuit.
* January 20, 1977
As corrected.
Appeal from the United States District Court for the Northern District of Texas.
AFFIRMED IN PART, REVERSED IN PART and REMANDED.
Robert L. Ramsey, Dallas, Texas, For Appellant.
Pat S. Hlloway, Dallas, Texas, For Appellee.
Goldberg, Dyer and Simpson, Circuit Judges.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Dora

* "Dora", in Poems, Volume 2 (1843)
* "Dora" (1887)
# Early poems of William Morris/The Sailing of the Sword

illustrator: Florence Harrison
Across the empty garden-beds, When the Sword went out to sea, I scarcely saw my sisters' heads Bowed each beside a tree. I could not see the castle leads, When the Sword went out to sea.
Alicia wore a scarlet gown, When the Sword went out to sea, But Ursula's was russet brown: For the mist we could not see The scarlet roofs of the good town, When the Sword went out to sea.
Green holly in Alicia's hand, When the Sword went out to sea; With sere oak-leaves did Ursula stand; O! yet alas for me! I did but bear a peel'd white wand, When the Sword went out to sea.
O, russet brown and scarlet bright, When the Sword went out to sea,
Beneath an apple-tree our heads Stretched out toward the sea.
​My sisters wore; I wore but white: Red, brown, and white, are three; Three damozels; each had a knight, When the Sword went out to sea.
Sir Robert shouted loud, and said. When the Sword went out to sea, "Alicia, while I see thy head, What shall I bring" for thee?" " O, my sweet lord, a ruby red:" The Sword went out to sea.
Sir Miles said, while the sails hung down. When the Sword went out to sea, "Oh, Ursula! while I see the town, What shall I bring for thee?" "Dear knight, bring back a falcon brown:" The Sword went out to sea.
But my Roland, no word he said When the Sword went out to sea; But only turn'd away his head,— A quick shriek came from me: "Come back, dear lord, to your white maid;"— The Sword went out to sea.
The hot sun bit the garden-beds, When the Sword came back from sea; Beneath an apple-tree our heads Stretched out toward the sea; Grey gleam'd the thirsty castle-leads, When the Sword came back from sea.
​Lord Robert brought a ruby red,
When the Sword came back from sea;
He kissed Alicia on the head:
"I am come back to thee;
'Tis time, sweet love, that we were wed,
Now the Sword is back from sea!"
Sir Miles he bore a falcon brown,
When the Sword came back from sea;
His arms went round tall Ursula's gown,— "What joy, O love, but thee?
Let us be wed in the good town,
Now the Sword is back from sea!"
My heart grew sick, no more afraid,
When the Sword came back from sea;
Upon the deck a tall white maid
Sat on Lord Roland's knee;
His chin was press'd upon her head,
When the Sword came back from sea!
# Early poems of William Morris/The Judgment of God

illustrator: Florence Harrison
"Swerve to the left, son Roger," he said, "When you catch his eyes through the helmet-slit, Swerve to the left, then out at his head, And the Lord God give you joy of it!"
The blue owls on my father's hood Were a little dimm'd as I turn'd away; This giving up of blood for blood Will finish here somehow to-day.
So—when I walk'd out from the tent, Their howling almost blinded me; Yet for all that I was not bent By any shame. Hard by, the sea
Made a noise like the aspens where We did that wrong, but now the place Is very pleasant, and the air Blows cool on any passer's face.
And all the wrong is gather'd now Into the circle of these lists— Yea, howl out, butchers! tell me how His hands were cut off at the wrists;
​And how Lord Roger bore his face A league above his spear-point, high Above the owls, to that strong place Among the waters—yea, yea, cry:
"What a brave champion we have got! Sir Oliver, the flower of all The Hainault knights." The day being hot, He sat beneath a broad white pall,
White linen over all his steel; What a good knight he look'd! his sword Laid thwart his knees; he liked to feel Its steadfast edge clear as his word.
And he look'd solemn; how his love Smiled whitely on him, sick with fear! How all the ladies up above Twisted their pretty hands! so near.
The fighting was—Ellayne! Ellayne! They cannot love like you can, who Would burn your hands off, if that pain Could win a kiss—am I not true
To you for ever? therefore I Do not fear death or anything; If I should limp home wounded, why, While I lay sick you would but sing,
And soothe me into quiet sleep. If they spat on the recreaunt knight, Threw stones at him, and cursed him deep. Why then—what then; your hand would light
​So gently on his drawn-up face, And you would kiss him, and in soft Cool scented clothes would lap him, pace The quiet room and weep oft,—oft
Would turn and smile, and brush his cheek With your sweet chin and mouth; and in The order'd garden you would seek The biggest roses—any sin.
And these say: "No more now my knight. Or God's knight any longer"—you, Being than they so much more white, So much more pure and good and true,
Will cling to me for ever—there, Is not that wrong turn'd right at last Through all these years, and I wash'd clean? Say, yea, Ellayne; the time is past,
Since on that Christmas-day last year Up to your feet the fire crept, And the smoke through the brown leaves sere Blinded your dear eyes that you wept;
Was it not I that caught you then, And kiss'd you on the saddle-bow? Did not the blue owl mark the men Whose spears stood like the corn a-row?
This Oliver is a right good knight, And must needs beat me, as I fear, Unless I catch him in the fight, My father's crafty way—John, here!
​Bring up the men from the south gate,
To help me if I fall or win,
For even if I beat, their hate
Will grow to more than this mere grin.
# Early poems of William Morris/Summer Dawn

illustrator: Florence Harrison
Pray but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips,
Think but one thought of me up in the stars.
Pray but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips, Think but one thought of me up in the stars. The summer night waneth, the morning light slips, Faint and grey 'twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the cloud-bars, That are patiently waiting there for the dawn: Patient and colourless, though Heaven's gold Waits to float through them along with the sun. Far out in the meadows, above the young corn, The heavy elms wait, and restless and cold The uneasy wind rises; the roses are dun; Through the long twilight they pray for the dawn, Round the lone house in the midst of the corn. Speak but one word to me over the corn, Over the tender, bow'd locks of the corn.
# Early poems of William Morris/The Gilliflower of Gold

illustrator: Florence Harrison
A golden gilliflower to-day I wore upon my helm alway, And won the prize of this tourney. Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
However well Sir Giles might sit, His sun was weak to wither it, Lord Miles's blood was dew on it: Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
Although my spear in splinters flew, From John's steel-coat my eye was true; I wheel'd about, and cried for you, Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
Yea, do not doubt my heart was good, Though my sword flew like rotten wood, To shout, although I scarcely stood, Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
​My hand was steady too, to take My axe from round my neck, and break John's steel-coat up for my love's sake. Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
When I stood in my tent again, Arming afresh, I felt a pain Take hold of me, I was so fain— Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
To hear: "Honneur aux fils des preux!" Right in my ears again, and shew The gilliflower blossom'd new. Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
The Sieur Guillaume against me came, His tabard bore three points of flame From a red heart: with little blame— Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
Our tough spears crackled up like straw; He was the first to turn and draw His sword, that had nor speck nor flaw,— Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
But I felt weaker than a maid, And my brain, dizzied and afraid, Within my helm a fierce tune play'd,— Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
Until I thought of your dear head, Bow'd to the gilliflower bed, The yellow flowers stain'd with red;— Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
​Crash! how the swords met, "giroflée!" The fierce tune in my helm would play, "La belle! la belle! jaune giroflée!" Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
Once more the great swords met again, "La belle! la belle!" but who fell then? Le Sieur Guillaume, who struck down ten;— Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
And as with mazed and unarm'd face, Toward my own crown and the Queen's place, They led me at a gentle pace— Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
I almost saw your quiet head Bow'd o'er the gilliflower bed, The yellow flowers stain'd with red— Hah! hah! la belle jaune giroflée.
# Early poems of William Morris/The Little Tower

illustrator: Florence Harrison
Up and away through the drifting rain! Let us ride to the Little Tower again,
Up and away from the council-board! Do on the hauberk, gird on the sword.
The king is blind with gnashing his teeth. Change gilded scabbard to leather sheath:
Though our arms are wet with the slanting rain, This is joy to ride to my love again:
I laugh in his face when he bids me yield; Who knows one field from the other field,
For the grey rain driveth all astray?— Which way through the floods, good carle, I pray?
"The left side yet! the left side yet! Till your hand strikes on the bridge parapet."
"Yea so: the causeway holdeth good Under the water?" "Hard as wood;
"Right away to the uplands; speed, good knight." Seven hours yet before the light.
​Shake the wet off on the upland road; My taberd has grown a heavy load.
What matter? up and down hill after hill; Dead grey night for five hours still.
The hill-road droppeth lower again, Lower, down to the poplar plain.
No furlong farther for us to-night, The Little Tower draweth in sight;
They are ringing the bells, and the torches glare, Therefore the roofs of wet slate stare.
There she stands, and her yellow hair slantingly Drifts the same way that the rain goes by.
Who will be faithful to us to-day, With little but hard glaive-strokes for pay?
The grim king fumes at the council-board; "Three more days, and then the sword;
Three more days, and my sword through his head; And above his white brows, pale and dead,
A paper crown on the top of the spire; And for her the stake and the witches' fire."
Therefore though it be long ere day, Take axe and pick and spade, I pray.
Break the dams down all over the plain: God send us three more days such rain:
​Block all the upland roads with trees; The Little Tower with no great ease
Is won, I warrant; bid them bring Much sheep and oxen, everything
The spits are wont to turn with; wine And wheaten bread, that we may dine
In plenty each day of the siege; Good friends, ye know me no hard liege;
My lady is right fair, see ye! Pray God to keep you frank and free.
Love Isabeau, keep goodly cheer; The Little Tower will stand well here
Many a year when we are dead, And over it our green and red, Barred with the Lady's golden head; From mere old age when we are dead.
# Early poems of William Morris/The Chapel in Lyoness

illustrator: Florence Harrison
Sir Ozana
All day long and every day, From Christmas-Eve to Whit-Sunday, Within that Chapel-aisle I lay, And no man came a-near.
Naked to the waist was I, And deep within my breast did lie, Though no man any blood could spy, The truncheon of a spear.
No meat did ever pass my lips. Those days—(Alas! the sunlight slips From off the gilded parclose, dips, And night comes on apace.)
My arms lay back behind my head; Over my raised-up knees was spread A samite cloth of white and red; A rose lay on my face.
Many a time I tried to shout; But as in dream of battle-rout, My frozen speech would not well out; I could not even weep.
With inward sigh I see the sun Fade off the pillars one by one, My heart faints when the day is done, Because I cannot sleep.
Sometimes strange thoughts pass through my head; Not like a tomb is this my bed, Yet oft I think that I am dead; That round my tomb is writ,
"Ozana of the hardy heart, Knight of the Table Round, Pray for his soul, lords, of your part; A true knight he was found."
Ah! me, I cannot fathom it. [He sleeps.
Sir Galahad
All day long and every day, Till his madness pass'd away, I watch'd Ozana as he lay Within the gilded screen.
All my singing moved him not; As I sung my heart grew hot, With the thought of Launcelot Far away, I ween.
So I went a little space From out the chapel, bathed my face In the stream that runs apace By the churchyard wall.
There I pluck'd a faint wild rose, Hard by where the linden grows, Sighing over silver rows Of the lilies tall.
I laid the flower across his mouth; The sparkling drops seem'd good for drouth, He smiled, turn'd round toward the south, Held up a golden tress.
The light smote on it from the west: He drew the covering from his breast, Against his heart that hair he prest; Death him soon will bless.
Sir Bors
I enter'd by the western door; I saw a knight's helm lying there: I raised my eyes from off the floor, And caught the gleaming of his hair.
I stept full softly up to him; I laid my chin upon his head; I felt him smile; my eyes did swim, I was so glad he was not dead.
I heard Ozana murmur low, "There comes no sleep nor any love." But Galahad stoop'd and kiss'd his brow: He shiver'd; I saw his pale lips move.
Sir Ozana
There comes no sleep nor any love; Ah me! I shiver with delight. I am so weak I cannot move; God move me to thee, dear, to-night! Christ help! I have but little wit; My life went wrong; I see it writ,
"Ozana of the hardy heart, Knight of the Table Round, Pray for his soul, lords, on your part; A good knight he was found."
Now I begin to fathom it. [He dies.
Sir Bors
Galahad sits dreamily: What strange things may his eyes see, Great blue eyes fix'd full on me? On his soul, Lord, have mercy.
Sir Galahad
Ozana, shall I pray for thee? Her cheek is laid to thine; No long time hence, also I see Thy wasted fingers twine
Within the tresses of her hair That shineth gloriously, Thinly outspread in the clear air Against the jasper sea.
# Early poems of William Morris/The Eve of Crecy

illustrator: Florence Harrison
Gold on her head, and gold on her feet, And gold where the hems of her kirtle meet, And a golden girdle round my sweet;— Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.
Margaret's maids are fair to see, Freshly dress'd and pleasantly; Margaret's hair falls down to her knee;— Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.
If I were rich I would kiss her feet, I would kiss the place where the gold hems meet, And the golden girdle round my sweet— Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.
Ah me! I have never touch'd her hand; When the arriere-ban goes through the land, Six basnets under my pennon stand;— Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.
And many an one grins under his hood: "Sir Lambert de Bois, with all his men good, Has neither food nor firewood;"— Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.
​If I were rich I would kiss her feet, And the golden girdle of my sweet, And thereabouts where the gold hems meet;— Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.
Yet even now it is good to think, While my few poor varlets grumble and drink In my desolate hall, where the fires sink,— Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.
Of Margaret sitting glorious there, In glory of gold and glory of hair, And glory of glorious face most fair;— Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.
Likewise to-night I make good cheer, Because this battle draweth near: For what have I to lose or fear?— Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.
For, look you, my horse is good to prance A right fair measure in this war-dance, Before the eyes of Philip of France;— Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.
And sometime it may hap, perdie, While my new towers stand up three and three, And my hall gets painted fair to see— Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite.
That folks may say: "Times change, by the rood, For Lambert, banneret of the wood, Has heaps of food and firewood;— Ah! qu'elle est belle La Marguerite;—
​"And wonderful eyes, too, under the hood Of a damsel of right noble blood:" St. Ives, for Lambert of the wood!— Ah! quelle est belle La Marguerite.
# Dunbar v. City of New York

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
251 U.S. 516
Dunbar v. City of New York
Argued: Jan. 21, 1920. --- Decided: March 1, 1920
Messrs. Marold G. Aron and Henry M. Wise, both of New York City, for plaintiff in error.
Mr. William Herbert King, of New York City, for defendant in error.
Mr. Justice McKENNA delivered the opinion of the Court.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Dunban-Stanley Studios, Inc. v. Alabama

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.

## Concurring Opinion

    White
United States Supreme Court
393 U.S. 537
Dunban-Stanley Studios, Inc. v. Alabama
Argued: Jan. 16, 1969. --- Decided: Feb 25, 1969
J. Edward Thornton, Mobile, Ala., for appellant.
William H. Burton, Montgomery, Ala., for appellee.
Mr. Justice FORTAS delivered the opinion of the Court.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Dunban-Stanley Studios, Inc. v. Alabama/Concurrence White

* Court Documents
* Case Syllabus
* Opinion of the Court
* Concurring Opinion White
United States Supreme Court
393 U.S. 537
Dunban-Stanley Studios, Inc. v. Alabama
Argued: Jan. 16, 1969. --- Decided: Feb 25, 1969
Mr. Justice WHITE, concurring.
Alabama taxes its transient photographers on a different, and often more burdensome, basis than those not in that category. If firms operating precisely as appellant does, and mailing their film to a central point within the State for development, are taxed as transient photographers then there is no unconstitutional discrimination against interstate commerce. But if appellant is taxed as a transient photographer because its films are sent for development across a state line, then there is discrimination against interstate commerce. Although appellant contends that it is because of the interstate shipment of films that the transient tax was applied, and although the decision in Haden v. Olan Mills, Inc., 273 Ala. 129, 135 So.2d 388 (1961), arguably supports that view, I do not think that a sufficient showing has been made in this record that Alaba a has so applied its tax. Since the burden of proof is on the appellant here, I join the Court despite the uncertainty of the record on this score.

## Notes

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

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
198 U.S. 166
Dunbar v. Green
Argued: April 6, 1905. --- Decided: May 1, 1905
This was an action of ejectment brought September 22, 1900, in the district court of Wyandotte county by defendants in error, who were plaintiffs below, to recover possession of certain lots of land in the city of Argentine. The case was tried upon an agreed statement of facts, substantially as follows:
The land was patented December 28, 1859, to Susan Whitefeather, as the head of a family, consisting of herself and her son, George Washington, who were members of the Shawnee tribe of Indians. The patent was issued under the treaty of May 10, 1854 (Indian Treaties, p. 792 [10 Stat. at L. 1053]), with the Shawnees. Whitefeather died prior to July 10, 1862, and her son, George Washington, inherited the land. On November 27, 1867, he being then fourteen years of age, the probate court of Johnson county appointed Jonathan Gore as his guardian, though the land was in Wyandotte county. In these proceedings Washington is described as the minor heir of George and Judy Washington. Under such appointment the guardian sold the land to one Joel F. Kinney for $2,000, executing to him a guardian's deed, which was approved by the Secretary of the Interior May 21, 1869, and the title so acquired by Kinney passed by a series of conveyances to the plaintiffs Green. In these proceedings for a sale Gore described himself as guardian of George Washington, the minor heir of Susan Whitefeather, deceased. Washington remained a member of the Shawnee tribe until September 26, 1900, when he was made a citizen of the United States. He took no steps to impugn the validity of the guardian's deed until June 25, 1895, when, according to the agreed statement of facts, the defendant Dunbar took possession of the land as his agent. Up to this time it had remained vacant and unimproved. Plaintiffs recovered judgment, which was affirmed by the supreme court. 66 Kan. 557, 72 Pac. 243.
Messrs. L. F. Bird and H. G. Pope for plaintiffs in error.
No brief was filed for defendants in error.
Statement by Mr. Justice Brown:
Mr. Justice Brown delivered the opinion of the court:

## Notes

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

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
94 U.S. 187
Dunbar v. Myers
APPEAL from the Circuit Court of the United States for the Southern District of New York.
The facts are fully stated in the opinion of the court.
This case was argued by Mr. Charles F. Blake v. Mr. Samuel J. Glassey for Dunbar, and by Mr. Frederic H. Betts for Myers.
MR. JUSTICE CLIFFORD delivered the opinion of the court.

## Notes

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

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
Dillon v. Gloss, 256 U.S. 368 (1921), was a case in which the Supreme Court of the United States held that if the United States Congress—when proposing an amendment to the Constitution of the United States—desires to place a deadline on that particular constitutional amendment's ratification, that Congress may indeed do precisely that and further that Congress' selection of a seven-year time constraint upon the ratification of what later became the Constitution's 18th Amendment was not deemed to be unreasonable by the Court. Warning: template has been deprecated.
United States Supreme Court
256 U.S. 368
Dillon v. Gloss
Argued: March 22, 1921. --- Decided: May 16, 1921
Messrs. Levi Cooke, of Washington, D. C., and Theodore A. Bell, of San Francisco, Cal., for appellant.
[Argument of Counsel from page 369-370 intentionally omitted]
The Assistant Attorney General Adams, for appellee.
Mr. Justice VAN DEVANTER delivered the opinion of the Court.

## Notes

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