OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/To Ellen at the South

TO ELLEN AT THE SOUTH
The green grass is bowing, The morning wind is in it; 'T is a tune worth thy knowing, Though it change every minute.
'T is a tune of the Spring; Every year plays it over To the robin on the wing, And to the pausing lover.
O'er ten thousand, thousand acres, Goes light the nimble zephyr; The Flowers—tiny sect of Shakers— Worship him ever.
Hark to the winning sound! They summon thee, dearest,— Saying, 'We have dressed for thee the ground, Nor yet thou appearest.
'O hasten;' 't is our time, Ere yet the red Summer Scorch our delicate prime, Loved of bee,—the tawny hummer.
​'O pride of thy race! Sad, in sooth, it were to ours, If our brief tribe miss thy face, We poor New England flowers.
'Fairest, choose the fairest members Of our lithe society; June's glories and September's Show our love and piety.
'Thou shalt command us all,— April's cowslip, summer's clover, To the gentian in the fall, Blue-eyed pet of blue-eyed lover.
'O come, then, quickly come! We are budding, we are blowing; And the wind that we perfume Sings a tune that 's worth the knowing.'
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/To J. W.

TO J. W.
Set not thy foot on graves; Hear what wine and roses say; The mountain chase, the summer waves, The crowded town, thy feet may well delay.
​Set not thy foot on graves; Nor seek to unwind the shroud Which charitable Time And Nature have allowed To wrap the errors of a sage sublime.
Set not thy foot on graves; Care not to strip the dead Of his sad ornament, His myrrh, and wine, and rings,
His sheet of lead, And trophies burièd: Go, get them where he earned them when alive; As resolutely dig or dive.
Life is too short to waste In critic peep or cynic bark, Quarrel or reprimand: 'T will soon be dark; Up! mind thine own aim, and God speed the mark!
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/Two Rivers

TWO RIVERS
Thy summer voice, Musketaquit, Repeats the music of the rain; But sweeter rivers pulsing flit Through thee, as thou through Concord Plain.
Thou in thy narrow banks art pent: The stream I love unbounded goes Through flood and sea and firmament; Through light, through life, it forward flows.
I see the inundation sweet, I hear the spending of the stream Through years, through men, through Nature fleet, Through love and thought, through power and dream,
Musketaquit, a goblin strong, Of shard and flint makes jewels gay; They lose their grief who hear his song, And where he winds is the day of day.
So forth and brighter fares my stream,— Who drink it shall not thirst again; No darkness stains its equal gleam, And ages drop in it like rain.
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/Una

UNA
Roving, roving, as it seems, Una lights my clouded dreams; Still for journeys she is dressed; We wander far by east and west.
In the homestead, homely thought, At my work I ramble not; If from home chance draw me wide, Half-seen Una sits beside.
​In my house and garden-plot, Though beloved, I miss her not; But one I seek in foreign places, One face explore in foreign faces.
At home a deeper thought may light The inward sky with chrysolite, And I greet from far the ray, Aurora of a dearer day.
But if upon the seas I sail, Or trundle on the glowing rail, I am but a thought of hers, Loveliest of travellers.
So the gentle poet's name To foreign parts is blown by fame; Seek him in his native town, He is hidden and unknown.
# Poems (Emerson, Household Edition, 1904)/Uriel

URIEL
It fell in the ancient periods Which the brooding soul surveys, Or ever the wild Time coined itself Into calendar months and days.
This was the lapse of Uriel, Which in Paradise befell. Once, among the Pleiads walking, Seyd overheard the young gods talking; And the treason, too long pent, To his ears was evident. The young deities discussed Laws of form, and metre just, Orb, quintessence, and sunbeams, What subsisteth, and what seems. One, with low tones that decide, And doubt and reverend use defied, With a look that solved the sphere, ​And stirred the devils everywhere, Gave his sentiment divine Against the being of a line. 'Line in nature is not found; Unit and universe are round; In vain produced, all rays return; Evil will bless, and ice will burn.' As Uriel spoke with piercing eye, A shudder ran around the sky; The stern old war-gods shook their heads, The seraphs frowned from myrtle-beds; Seemed to the holy festival The rash word boded ill to all; The balance-beam of Fate was bent; The bounds of good and ill were rent; Strong Hades could not keep his own, But all slid to confusion.
A sad self-knowledge, withering, fell On the beauty of Uriel; In heaven once eminent, the god Withdrew, that hour, into his cloud; Whether doomed to long gyration In the sea of generation, Or by knowledge grown too bright To hit the nerve of feebler sight. Straightway, a forgetting wind Stole over the celestial kind, And their lips the secret kept, ​If in ashes the fire-seed slept. But now and then, truth-speaking things Shamed the angels' veiling wings; And, shrilling from the solar course, Or from fruit of chemic force, Procession of a soul in matter, Or the speeding change of water, Or out of the good of evil born, Came Uriel's voice of cherub scorn, And a blush tinged the upper sky, And the gods shook, they knew not why.
# Poems (Trask)/January

POEMS OF THE SEASONS.
# Poems (Piatt)/Volume 2

POEMS
BY
SARAH PIATT
VOL. II
LONDON
LONGMANS, GREEN AND CO.
AND NEW YORK: 15 EAST 36TH STREET
1894
[All rights reserved]
CONTENTS
# Poems (Piatt)/Volume 2/A Disenchantment

EARLIER POEMS.
# Poems (Victor)/A Golden Wedding

A GOLDEN WEDDING.
Down the vista of the years Bright with joy, or dim with tears, Turning back our gaze, Not a shadow falls between You and I in all that scene Of life's checkered ways. Kindly by the Father led, Since the day that we were wed Years have fluttered by, Silently as leaves that fall By the sunny garden wall When the roses die.
Los Angeles, 1887.
# Poems (Van Vorst)/Viva! Anima Carissima

SONNETS
# Poems (Victor)/A Lyric of Life

A LYRIC OF LIFE.
Said one to me: "I seem to be Like a bird blown out to sea, In the hurricane's wild track— Lost, wing-weary, beating back Vainly toward a fading shore, It shall rest on nevermore."
Said I: "Betide, some good ships ride, Over all the waters wide; Spread your wings upon the blast, Let it bear you far and fast— In some sea serene and blue, Succor-ships are waiting you."
This soul then said: "Would I were dead, Billows rolling o'er my head; Those that sail the ships will cast Storm-waifs back into the blast; Omens evil will they call What the hurricane lets fall."
For my reply: "Beneath the sky Countless isles of beauty lie: Waifs upon the ocean thrown, After tossings long and lone, To those blessed shores have come, Finding there love, heaven, and home."
​This soul to me: "The seething sea, Tossing hungry under me, I fear to trust; the ships I fear; I see no isle of beauty near; The sun is blotted out—no more 'Twill shine for me on any shore."
Once more I said: "Be not afraid; Yield to the storm without a dread; For the tree, by tempests torn From its native soil, is borne Green, to where its ripened fruit Gives a sturdy forest root.
"That which we lose, we think we choose, Oft, from slavery to use. Shocks that break our chains, tho' rude, Open paths to highest good: Wise, my sister soul, is she Who takes of life the proffered key."
# Poems (Victor)/A June Song

A JUNE SONG.
O song-birds from the east, And sea-birds from the west, And great birds of the shining wing, That in the northlands nest, Come, sing to my red, red rose, And my lilies saintly white, To my golden poppies sing Your throatful of delight; Lilt on the swinging boughs ​Of my accacia trees, And pour your music out upon The perfume-laden breeze. Come, songsters of the wood, And put my heart in tune To the flowers and the sun Of this happy land of June.
Cry out, O brave, bright birds That soar, and swoop and swing Above the sapphire sea In a wild wassailing; Drop down and flick the foam, As the arrow flies when sped; Laugh at your startled prey; And scream to your mates o'erhead; Be drunken with the joy Of the sparkling air and brine, With the glory of the day, Its shadows and its shine; With the color and the warmth Of this June-land by the sea, That you whirl above in play, And you scream unto in glee.
​Cry, O pilots of the air, Leading to the lonely meads By the quiet lakes and cold, To the land of grass and reeds, Twixt the northern mountains set Like a picture in a frame, In among the headlands bold; Where the weird northlights flame, Flashing through the evening sky; Where the days are still and long, And the hours are brief that roll— Filled with murmurs of the song Sung by cataracts and pines To the fiercely glowing stars Swinging round the northern pole— Back the midnight's ebon bars.
O, winged creatures all, Of the land or of the sea, Of the west, or east, or south, Bird or butterfly or bee, Or the eagle of the crags, Breathing of this air divine Blowing from its maker's mouth, Quickening the blood like wine, Sing and cry unto this land, To this sunland by the sea, ​To the sea that bounds this shore In a summer symphony— Topaz wave and amber sand— To this sapphire sea and sky, To the mountains towering o'er Vales where shimmering harvests lie; To this joyous land and free, To my flowers, and to my heart, Sing a jocund jubilee— June is sweet, and life is short.
San Francisco, Cal., 1896.
# Poems (Victor)

The poem title—"Lines to a Lump of Virgin Gold"—is missing from the original work's index. The poem appears on page 66.
POEMS
BY
Frances Fuller Victor
AUTHOR'S EDITION
1900.
But when the question arose whether he was not only a lyrist but a poet, we are obliged to confess that he is plainly a contemporary, and not an eternal man.
—Emerson.
INDEX.
PAGE
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
# Poems (Victor)/A Reprimand

A REPRIMAND.
Behold my soul—she sits so far above you Your wildest dream has never glanced so high, Yet in the old time when you said "I love you," How fairly we seemed mated, eye to eye. How long we dallied on in flowery meadows, By languid lakes of sweetly sinuous dreams, Steeped in enchanted mists, beguiled by shadows, Casting life's flowers upon loitering streams, My memory owns, and yours—mine with deep shame— Yours with a sigh that life is not the same.
What parted us to leave you in the valley, And send me struggling to the mountain top; Too weak for duty, even love failed to rally The manhood that should float your pinions up. On my spent feet are many cruel bruises, My limbs are wasted with their heavy toil, But I have learned adversity's sweet uses, And brought my soul up pure through every soil; Have I no right to scorn the man's dead power That leaves you far beneath me at this hour?
​Scorn you I do, while pitying even more The ignoble weakness of a strength debased Do I yet mourn the faith that died of yore, The trust by timorous treachery effaced? Through all, and over all my soul mounts free To heights of peace you cannot hope to gain, Sings to the stars its mountain minstrelsy, And smiles down proudly on your murky plain; 'Tis vain to invite you—yet come up, come up, Conquer your way toward the mountain top.
# Poems (Victor)/A Summer Day

A SUMMER DAY.
Fade not, sweet day! Another hour like this— So full of tranquil bliss— May never come my way, I walk in paths so shadowed and so cold; But stay thou, darling hour, Nor stint thy gracious power To smile away the clouds that me enfold; Oh, stay! when thou art gone, I shall be lost and lone.
Lost, lone, and sad; And troubled more and more, By the dark ways, and sore, In which my feet are led;— Alas my heart, it was not always so; Therefore, O happy day, Haste not to fade away, Nor let pale night chill all thy tender glow— Thy rosy mists, that steep The violet hills to sleep—
Thy airs of gold, That over all the plain, And fields of ripened grain, A shimmering glory hold,— ​The soft fatigue-dress of the drowsy sun, Dreaming, as one who goes To peace, and sweet repose, After a battle hardly fought, and won; Even so, my heart, today, Dream all thy fears away.
O happy tears, That everywhere I gaze, Jewel the golden maze, Flow on, till earth appears Worthy the soft perfection of this scene: Beat, heart, more soft and low, Creep, hurrying blood, more slow, Waste not one throb, to lose me the serene, Deep, satisfying bliss Of such an hour as this
How like our dream, Of that delightful rest God keepest for the blest, This lovely peace doth seem: Perchance, my heart, He sent this gracious day, That when the dark and cold, Thy doubtful steps enfold, Thou may'st remember, and press on thy way, Nor faint midway the gloom That lies this side the tomb.
​All, all in vain Sweet day, do I entreat To stay thy winged feet; The gloom, the cold, the pain, Gather me back as thou dost pale and fade; Yet in my heart I make A chamber for thy sake, And keep thy picture in warm color laid: Thy memory, happy day, Thou can'st not take away.
St. Helens, Or., 1868.
# Poems (Tynan)

POEMS BY KATHARINE TYNAN
POEMS
BY
KATHARINE TYNAN
LONDON
LAWRENCE AND BULLEN, LTD.
21 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND, W.C.
1901
ChiswicK press: chakles whittingham and CO, TOOKS COUKT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.
TO
THE RIGHT HONOURABLE GEORGE WYNDHAM, M.P
CHIEF SECRETARY FOR IRELAND.
ἐπεὶ ψάμμος ἀριθμευγὸν περιπἐφευγει´,
καὶ κεῖνος ὅσα χάρματ´ ἄλλοις ἔθηκεν
τίς ἄν φράσαι δὐναιτο.
CONTENTS
CHISWICK PRESS: CHARLES WHITTINGHAM AND CO. TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE, LONDON.
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 1931, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 92 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 (Tynan)/A Child's Day

SHAMROCKS
# Popular Science Monthly/Volume 21

Scans
Layout 4
# Poems and Extracts/Sonnet (2)

Sonnet
Thy bosom is endeared with all hearts,
Which I by lacking have supposed dead;
And there reigns love and all lovers loving parts,
And all those friends which I thought buried.
How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religious love stolen from mine eye.
As interest of the dead, which now appear
But things removed, that hidden in thee lie !
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,10
Who all their parts of me to thee did give;
That due of many now is thine alone:
Their images I lov'd I view in thee
And thou (all they) hast all the all of me.
# Poems and Extracts/Silvia, let us from the crowd retire

Silvia, let us from the crowd retire
For what to you and me
(Who but each other do desire)
Is all that here we see?
Apart we'll live, though not alone;
For, who alone can call
Those who in desarts live with One
If in that One they've All?
The world a vast Meander is, Where hearts confus'dly stray;10
Where few do hit, whilst thousands miss
The happy mutual way:
Where hands are by stern Parents tied,
Who oft, in Cupid's scorn.
Do for the widowed state provide,
Before that Love is born:
Where some too soon themselves misplace,
And in another find
The only temper, wit, or face, That could affect their mind. 20   Others (but O avert that fate!)
A well-chosen Object change:
Fly, Silvia, fly, ere 'tis too late;
Fallen nature's prone to range.
And though in heat of Love we swear
More than perform we can;
No Goddess you, but Woman are,
And I no more than Man.
The impatient Silvia heard thus long;
Then with a smile replied: 30
Those bands could ne'er be very strong
Which accidents' divide.
In ancient history we meet
A flying nymph betray'd,
Who had she kept in fruitful Crete,
New conquests might have made.
And sure, as on the beech she stood.
To view the parting sails;
She curs'd herself, more than the flood
Or the conspiring gales.40
False Theseus, since thy vows are broke, May following nymphs beware;
(Methinks I hear how thus she spoke, Who will not trust too far)
In love, in play, in trade, in war
They best themselves acquit,
Who though their interests shipwreck'd are,
Keep unreprov'd their wit.
"Anne Countess of Winchelsea, Authoress of the foregoing Poems, was the daughter of Sir William Kingsmill of Sidmonton, in the County of Southampton. She married Heneage, second son of Heneage Earl of Winchelsea, who on the death of his Nephew, Charles, succeeded him in the title of Earl. She died, without Issue Augst. 5th. 1720." see Poems by Eminent Ladies.
A passage in her "Petition for an absolute Retreat," not given in the Extract from that poem, and another in the "Fragment" page , prove that she was attached to James the second and suffered by the Revolution.
# Poems and Extracts/Petition for an absolute Retreat

Petition for an absolute Retreat.
Give me, O indulgent Fate! Give me yet before I die A sweet but absolute Retreat, 'Mongst paths so lost and trees so high, That the world may ne'er invade, Through such windings and such shade. My unshaken liberty.
No intruders thither come! Who visit but to be from home. None who their vain moments pass, 10 Only studious of their glass News, that charm to listening ears That false alarm to hopes and fears,
That common theme for every fop From the Statesman to the shop In those coverts ne'er be spread. Of who's deceased or who's to wed Be no tidings hither brought But silent as a midnight thought, Where the world may ne'er invade, 20 Be those windings and that shade:
Courteous Fate! afford me there A table spread without my care, With what the neighb'ring fields impart, Whose cleanliness be all their art; Courteous Fate then give me there Only plain and wholesome fare. Fruits indeed (would heaven bestow) All that did in Eden grow; All but the Forbidden Tree, 30 Would be covetted by me;
Grapes with juice so crowded up, As breaking through their native cup, Figs, yet growing, candied o'er, By the sun's attracting power; Cherries, with the downy peach All within my easy reach; Whilst creeping near the humble ground, Should the strawberry be found Springing wheresoe'er I strayed 40 Through those windings and that shade.
Give me there (since heaven has shewn It was not good to be alone) A partner suited to my mind, Solitary, pleased, and kind; Who, partially, may something see Preferred to all the world in me; Slighting by my humble side Fame and splendor, wealth and pride.
When but two the earth possesst 50 'Twas their happiest days and best; They by business, nor by wars, They by no domestic cares, From each other e'er were drawn, But in some grove or flowery lawn, Spent the swiftly-flying time Spent their own and natures prime In love; that only passion given To perfect man whilst friends with heaven.— Rage and jealousies and hate, 60 Transports of his fallen state, When by Satan's wiles betrayed Fly those windings and that shade.
Anne, Countess of Winchelsea
# Poems and Extracts/Song (2)

Song
'Tis strange, this heart within my breast, Reason opposing and her powers, Cannot one gentle moment rest, Unless it knows what's done in your's.
In vain I ask it of your eyes, Which subtly would my fears control; For art has taught them to disguise, Which nature made to explain the soul.
In vain that sound, your voice affords, Flatters sometimes my easy mind;10 But of too vast extent are words In them the jewel truth to find.
Then let my fond enquiries cease,
And so let all my troubles end:
For, sure, that heart shall ne'er know peace,
Which on another's doth depend.
# Poems and Extracts/Sonnet (1)

Sonnet
When I have seen by times fell hand defaced
The rich proud cost of outworn buried age,
When sometime lofty towers I see down-razed,
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage;
When I have seen the hungry ocean gain
Advantage on the kingdom of the shore,
And the firm soil win of the watry main,
Increasing store with loss, and loss with store;
When I have seen such interchange of state,
Or state itself confounded to decay;10
Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate— That time will come and take my love away.
This thought is like a death, which cannot chuse
But weep to have what it so fears to lose.
————————Shakespeare
# Poems and Extracts/Ode to Peace

Ode to Peace
Come, Peace of Mind, delightful guest,
Return and make thy downy nest
Once more in this sad heart!
Nor riches I, nor power pursue,
Nor hold forbidden joys in view;
We therefore need not part.
Where wilt thou dwell if not with me.
From avarice and ambition free
And pleasure's fatal wiles?
For whom, alas! dost thou prepare,10
The sweets which I was wont to share
The banquet of thy smiles.
The great, the gay, shall they partake
The heaven that thou alone canst make?
And wilt thou quit the stream
That murmurs through the dewy mead,
The grove and the sequester'd shed,
To be a guest with them?
For thee I panted; thee I prized.
For thee I gladly sacrificed20
Whatever I lov'd before;
And shall I see the start away
And, helpless, hopeless, hear thee say—
Farewell! we meet no more!
Cowper.
# Poems and Extracts/Of my dear Son, Gervase Beaumont

Of my dear Son, Gervase Beaumont.
By Sir John Beaumont.
Can I, who have for others oft compiled
The songs of Death, forget my sweetest child ?
Which like a flower crusht, with a blast is dead,
And ere full time hangs down his smiling head.
Expecting with clear hope to live anew
Among the angels fed with heavenly dew.
We have this sign of joy, that many days,
While on the earth his struggling spirit stays,
The name of Jesus in his mouth contains
His only food, his sleep, his ease from pains.10
O may that sound be rooted in my mind
Of which in him such strong effect I find.
Dear Lord, receive my Son, whose winning love
To me was like a friendship, far above
The course of nature, or his tender age,
Whose looks could all my bitter griefs assuage;
Let his pure soul ordained seven years to be
In that frail body which was part of me.
Remain my pledge with Heaven, as sent to shew.
How to this port at every step I go.20