OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Macabre/Number 5/Danse Macabre

Danse Macabre
As I went throng the churchyard on All Soul's Eve I heard a ghastly ghost-wraith making loud grieve. He cried out bitterly and wrung his bony hands, "I lie through the centuries, my ribs in the sands. In my crumbling coffin-house silent I lie And stare through empty sockets, Lord, at an empty sky. My fleshless hands are weary. Lord--my bones crumble away -- As down the slow centuries I wait the Judgment Day. Lord! Lord! Lord! When will Ye come To clothe me with the Living Flesh and welcome me Home?
And out of the Silence the vast Silence said: Lie there forever with dust on thy head. Lie there forever and crumble to dust away, For there is no resurrection -- there is no Judgment Day. Man is but dust and a bleached white bone, Forever unhappy -- forever alone... A little time for sorrow and a little time for mirth, A last mumbled prayer and a handful of earth. There is no Resurrection--there is no Judgment Day -- Just the long, slow wearing of centuries away.
Then over the churchyard there swept a weary moan As each ghastly ghost-wraith rose from its stone, And joining in a circle, seized its neighbor's hand, Dipping and wheeling in a mournful saraband. Posturing and grinning they danced away their Hour Till the tolling of the bell from the grey churchtower. Then each ghastly ghost-face was lifted toward the sky In weary supplication to hear its bitter cry Of: Lord! Lord! Lord! When will Ye come To clothe me with the Living-Flesh and welcome me Home?
-- Violet M. Cobb
# Sonora to Del Rio

First published in The Howard Collector #1, Summer 1961
Sonora to Del Rio is a hundred barren miles Where the sotol weave and shimmer in the sun— Like a host of swaying serpents straying down the bare defiles When the silver, scarlet webs of dawn are spun.
There are little 'dobe ranchoes, brooding far along the sky On the sullen, dreary bosoms of the hills. Not a wolf to break the quiet, not a single bird to fly; Where the silence is so utter that it thrills.
Maybe, in the heat of evening, comes a wind from Mexico Laden with the heat of seven Hells, And the rattler in the yucca and the buzzard dark and slow Hear and understand the grisly tales it tells.
Gaunt and stark and bare and mocking rise the everlasting cliffs Like a row of sullen giants carved of stone, Till the traveler, mazed with silence, thinks to look at hieroglyphs, Thinks to see a carven pharaoh on his throne.
And the road goes on forever, o'er the barren hill forever, And there's little to hint of flowing wine— But beyond the hills and sotol there's a mellow curving river And a land of sun and mellow wine.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was legally published within the United States (or the United Nations Headquarters in New York subject to Section 7 of the United States Headquarters Agreement) between 1929 and 1977 (inclusive) without a copyright notice.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 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
# Macabre/Number 5/The Smell of Danger

The Smell of Danger
The day comes stalking Heavy with foreboding, Walking on stealthy feet As if in search of prey. Move at your peril through the murky morning Taut at the smell of danger, Dreading the lightning crack. The air is tense with warning, Tall grasses tremble.
This is a day for signs and omens. Keep to the line that stretches Toward tomorrow. Beware the black cat And the ladder’s shadow-- This is a time to read the lowering sky, To shun the evil eye And the everlasting wind That walks with morning.
-- Sydney King Russell
# Surrender (Howard)

First published in The Junto, August 1929. Alternate title: The Road to Rest
I will rise some day when the day is done And the stars begin to quiver; I will follow the road of the setting sun Till I come to a dreaming river.
I am weary now of the world and vow Of the winds and the winter weather; I'll reel through a few more years somehow, Then I'll quite them altogether.
I'll go to a girl that once I knew And I will not swerve or err, And I care not if she be false or true For I am not true to her.
Her eyes are fierce and her skin is brown And her wild blood hotly races, But it's little I care if she does not frown At any man's embraces.
Should I ask for a love none may invade? Is she more or less than human? Do I ask for more, who have betrayed Man, devil, god and woman?
Enough for me if she has of me A bamboo hut she'll share, And enough tequilla to set me free From the ghosts that leer and stare.
I'll lie all day in a sodden sleep Through days without name or number, With only the wind in the sky's blue deep To haunt my unshaken slumber.
And I'll lie by night in the star-roofed hut Forgetful and quiet hearted, Till she comes with her burning eyes half shut And her red lips hot and parted.
The past is flown when the cup is full, And there is no chain for linking And any woman is beautiful When a man is blind with drinking.
Life is a lie that cuts like a knife With its sorrow and fading blisses; I'll go to a girl who asks naught of life Save wine and a drunkard's kisses.
No man shall know my race or name, Or my past sun-ripe or rotten, Till I travel the road by which I came, Forgetting and soon forgotten.
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 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 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
# Macabre/Number 5/The Way of Our Going

The Way of Our Going
Distant and desolate islands Where nameless seabirds dwell Are our homes and habitations Who have yielded to mystery's spell.
Singers by grey twilight waters, We are the children of mist, Seekers for all hidden wisdoms, Immaculate dreams that exist.
Tides rise and fall and we follow From dawn till the dark of the night; None traces the way of our going, The shadowy path of our flight.
-- Alice M. Swaim
# The Tempter

First published June 1937 in the newspaper Cross Plains Review
Something tapped me on the shoulder Something whispered, "Come with me, "Leave the world of men behind you, "Come where care may never find you "Come and follow, let me bind you "Where, in that dark, silent sea, "Tempest of the world ne'er rages; "There to dream away the ages, "Heedless of Time's turning pages, "Only, come with me."
"Who are you?" I asked the phantom, "I am rest from Hate and Pride. "I am friend to king and beggar, "I am Alpha and Omega, "I was councilor to Hagar "But men call me suicide." I was weary of tide breasting, Weary of the world's behesting, And I lusted for the resting As a lover for his bride.
And my soul tugged at its moorings And it whispered, "Set me free. "I am weary of this battle, "Of this world of human cattle, "All this dreary noise and prattle. "This you owe to me." Long I sat and long I pondered, On the life that I had squandered, O'er the paths that I had wandered Never free.
In the shadow panorama Passed life's struggles and its fray. And my soul tugged with new vigor, Huger grew the phantom's figure, As I slowly tugged the trigger, Saw the world fade swift away. Through the fogs old Time came striding, Radiant clouds were 'bout me riding, As my soul went gliding, gliding, From the shadow into day.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was legally published within the United States (or the United Nations Headquarters in New York subject to Section 7 of the United States Headquarters Agreement) before 1964, and copyright was not renewed.
* For Class A renewal records (books only) published between 1923 and 1963, check the Stanford University Copyright Renewal Database.
* For other renewal records of publications between 1922–1950, see the University of Pennsylvania copyright records.
* For all records since 1978, search the U.S. Copyright Office records.
Works could have had their copyright renewed between January 1st of the 27th year after publication or registration and December 31st of the 28th year. As this work's copyright was not renewed, it entered the public domain on January 1st of the 29th year.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 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.
It is imperative that contributors ascertain that there is no evidence of a copyright renewal before using this license. Failure to do so will result in the deletion of the work as a copyright violation.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Tides (Howard)

First published in Contemporary Verse, September 1929.
I am weary of birth and battle,  Seasons and Time and tide, Of the ocean's empty rattle.  And the woman at my side.
I am weary of pain and revel,  And eyes that glitter or weep; I will sell my soul to the Devil  For a thousand years of sleep.
Then never a dream shall haunt me,  And never a star shall rise, Nor a shadow come to daunt me  In the blackness over my eyes.
There shall be no name or number  Of the seasons over me; I shall know the tides of slumber  As a sunken ship, the sea.
And when I shall wake hereafter,  And the Devil comes for his gain, I will crush him with crimson laughter  And turn to my sleep again.
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 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 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
# Toper

Toil, cares, annoyances all fade away;  I care not who may run for President. I drowse and swing my rum the live-long day, And watch the shallops skimming o'er the bay.
This work is from the United States and in the public domain because it was not legally published with the permission of the copyright holder before January 1, 2003 and the author died 88 years ago. This is a posthumous work and its copyright in certain countries and areas may depend on years since posthumous publication, rather than years since the author's death. Translations or editions published later may be copyrighted.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 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
# To the Contended

Bide by the fluted iron walls  Take ye a serving wench to wife; Drown in the pot the bugle's calls,  Trade your spear for a peddler's knife.  Turn to the vendor's paltry strife,  Gird ye round with doors and bars  Safely snore in the lap of Life—  I must follow the restless stars.
Wait at the doors of your master's halls  —For the faithful server, boards are rife— Make no oath when the whip-lash falls—  Hark to the counsel of your wife;  Trade your harp for a peddler's fife.  But gods, the spray and the plunging spars! Here is my heart—in the heart of Life  And I must follow the restless stars
 Envoi King, there are stallions in golden stalls,  But bars of sapphire are only bars! Bide in peace in the high safe halls—  I must follow the restless stars.
This work is from the United States and in the public domain because it was not legally published with the permission of the copyright holder before January 1, 2003 and the author died 88 years ago. This is a posthumous work and its copyright in certain countries and areas may depend on years since posthumous publication, rather than years since the author's death. Translations or editions published later may be copyrighted.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 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
# A Tribute to the Sportsmanship of the Fans

Headlock, hammerlock, toss him on his bean again,  Jump on his belly and boot him in the hips, Clamp the scissors on his neck  and choke him till he's green again  Get the fans wild-eyed, with froth on their lips.
Barlock, body-slam, nibble on his ears again—  Its just like eating cabbage—and kick him in the groin, Butt him in the belly, that brings the cheers again,  The fans want a run for their hard-spent coin.
Flying-mare, toe-hold, twist his neck around again,  Wrap his legs around his waist and tie them in a knot, Stamp in his mouth so his teeth cannot be found again,  The fans paid their money so make it good and hot.
Stranglehold, leg-split, jerk his knee-caps loose again,  Crack his ribs and break his arms, leave him life-long lame, Send him out on a shutter—then listen to the boos again,  The kind fans howling that the battle was too tame.
This work is from the United States and in the public domain because it was not legally published with the permission of the copyright holder before January 1, 2003 and the author died 88 years ago. This is a posthumous work and its copyright in certain countries and areas may depend on years since posthumous publication, rather than years since the author's death. Translations or editions published later may be copyrighted.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 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
# Voodoo

This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* “Voodoo,” a poem by Richard Dunwich
* "Voodoo," in Encyclopædia Britannica (11th ed., 1911)
# 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Voodoo

See also Voodoo on Wikipedia; and our 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica disclaimer.
​VOODOO or Vaudoux (Creole Fr. vaudoux, a negro sorcerer, probably originally a dialectic form of Fr. Vaudois, a Waldensian), the name given to certain magical practices, superstitions and secret rites prevalent among the negroes of the West Indies, and more particularly in the Republic of Haiti.
# Macabre/Number 5/Voodoo

Voodoo
Nightlong, daylong, the drums were never still -- Daylong, nightlong, they whispered in our dreams -- Nightlong, daylong, they wove the web of ill: A dozen miles at sea we caulked our seams, Nourished strange growths and festered in the sun, Low in the water with our sodden beams; Westward the harrying shadows sprawled and spun, Eastward the mudflats simmered in foul glare; And the drums mumbled, rumbled, never done: By the third festering day we were aware Of something ominous in our pantomine -- We twitched like rabbits taken in a snare -- We moved in unison and jerked in time Like sorcerer's dolls to that compelling rhyme.
-- Richard Dunwich
# Visions (Howard)

I cannot believe in a paradise Glorious, undefiled, For gates all scrolled and streets of gold Are tales for a dreaming child.
I am too lost for shame That it moves me unto mirth, But I can vision a Hell of flame For I have lived on earth.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was legally published within the United States (or the United Nations Headquarters in New York subject to Section 7 of the United States Headquarters Agreement) between 1929 and 1977 (inclusive) without a copyright notice.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 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
# Macabre/Number 5/Revenants for Howard Phillips Lovecraft

Revenants
for Howard Phillips Lovecraft
By owl's light, bat-flight in the small hours of the night I start awake to fearful sound ...
What trembles underground far down, down deep on the perimeter of sleep? What shuddering ululation rises but half-clear to tempt the outward-straining ear? Who calls upon the Ancient Ones indifferent to man's race? -- Shub-Niggurath, Cthulhu with the face of tentacles, Nyarlathotep, Azathoth -- who wait forever on the rim of time and space.
The hour is late for human kind; in R'lyeh's deeps Great Cthulhu sleeps, and Hastur lurks beyond the Hyades.
What moves across the stars, just past the trees? What monstrous shadow lengthens tangibly beneath the moon? beneath the moon? Howard, this is your legacy.
-- August Derleth
# The Voices Waken Memory

First published in The Fantasy Fan, September 1934. Also known by the alternative titles "A Drum Begins to Throb" and "Out of the Deep"
The blind black shadows reach inhuman arms To draw me into darkness once again; The brooding night wind hints of nameless harms, And down the shadowed hill a vague refrain Bears half-remembered ghosts to haunt my soul, Like far-off neighing of the nightmare's foal.
But let me fix my phantom-shadowed eyes Hard on the stars — pale points of silver light— Here is the borderlad — here reason lies— There, vision, gryphons, Nothing, and the Night. Down, down, red spectres, down, and rack me not! Out, wolves of Hell! Oh God, my pulses thrum; The night grows fierce and blind and red and hot, And nearer still a frim insistent drum.
I will not look into the shadows — No! The star shall grip and hold my frantic gaze— But even in the stars black visions grow, And dragons writhe with iron eyes ablaze. Oh Gods that raised my blindness with your curse, And let me see the horrid shapes behind All outward veils that cloak the universe, The loathsome demon-spells that bind and blind, Since even the stars are noisome, foul and fell, Let me glut deep with memory dreams of hell.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was legally published within the United States (or the United Nations Headquarters in New York subject to Section 7 of the United States Headquarters Agreement) between 1929 and 1977 (inclusive) without a copyright notice.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 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
# Yodels of Good Sneer to the Pipple, Damn Them

From a letter to TCS, ca. November 1928 (“Salaam: / I’ll swear you’re the only galoot ...”) Parody of “We Are the Music-Makers” by Arthur William Edgar O'Shaughnessy.
Yodels of Good Sneer to the Pipple, Damn Them
We are the buttock shakers  And we are the slayers of dreams, Dredging our lone sea breakers,  Damming up beautiful streams. Bad losers and friend forsakers  In whom the jackal screams, But we are the grabbers and takers  Of the world forever it seems
With rotten, bastardly ditties We tore up the world’s great cities. And over the ashes of glory Erected a tenement whorey.
One man with a godamned hammer  Can batter a statue down And four with an apeish clamor  Can tear off a virgin’s gown.
We, with our sneers and lying,  Since the day when the dawns were young, Built Gomorrah with our spying  And Sodom we reared and sung. And we curse all the birds for flying,  And the sod whence the flowers sprung, As we go selling and buying,  Building a world of dung.
This work is from the United States and in the public domain because it was not legally published with the permission of the copyright holder before January 1, 2003 and the author died 88 years ago. This is a posthumous work and its copyright in certain countries and areas may depend on years since posthumous publication, rather than years since the author's death. Translations or editions published later may be copyrighted.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 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
# Macabre/Number 5/Two Loves

Two Loves
I had a love, a true, true love, With a kiss like a silver breath. His eyes were deep as he looked in mine, But deeper when watching Death. And I was his love, his one true love, But Her he still loved best.
Oh, I had a love, a true, true love, Who could not wait for me. His voice was low, his voice was soft, Like the sound of a moaning sea. But I never knew to whom he spoke, Whether to Her or me.
Yes, I had a love, a true, true love, And I begged my love to stay. I held him close in the windy night, And I pleaded through the day. But I saw his eyes, his deep, sad eyes, Turn slowly, darkly away.
-- Jeanne Marie Tyson
# A sappe ther wos and that a crumbe manne...

Included in a letter to Howard's friend Tevis Clyde Smith, c. November 1928. First published in The Collected Letters of Robert E. Howard, Volume 1, 2007. Written in imiation of Geoffrey Chaucer.
A sappe ther wos and that a crumbe manne Whoe from the timee that he firs beganne To jazzen oute he lopved rapery, And many a damsel sat himme on his knee. As far as goeth manne he had wente, And many a virgin's gude name hadde bente. Betimes among the dames of seventeen, And jazzen all the nighte at Racine. To Philadelphia hadde been alsoe Ageyne another trull in Chicagoe. And many a damsel hadde proved fickle, "Gude sirs," quote, "A maiden for an ickle "Her pantys taken down for any manne, "I hode you sirs, ageyne the whole damn clanne." And forthwith bought a ticket to New Yorke Because Hisse wife expected ther the storke.
This work is from the United States and in the public domain because it was not legally published with the permission of the copyright holder before January 1, 2003 and the author died 88 years ago. This is a posthumous work and its copyright in certain countries and areas may depend on years since posthumous publication, rather than years since the author's death. Translations or editions published later may be copyrighted.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 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