OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Poems (Henley)

POEMS
POEMS
By
WILLIAM ERNEST HENLEY
Seventh Edition
(revised)
LONDON
Published by DAVID NUTT
at the Sign of the Phœnix
in Long Acre
1904
Edinburgh: T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty
April 1888
September 1897.
ADVERTISEMENT
My friend and publisher, Mr. Alfred Nutt, asks me to introduce this re-issue of old work in a new shape. At his request, then, I have to say that nearly all the numbers contained in the present volume are reprinted from 'A Book of Verses' (1888) and 'London Voluntaries' (1892-3). From the first of these I have removed some copies of verse which seemed to me scarce worth keeping; and I have recovered for it certain others from those publications which had made room for them. I have corrected where I could, added such dates as I might, and, by re-arrangement and revision, done my best to give my book, such as it is, its final form. If any be displeased by the result, I can but submit that my verses are my own, and that this is how I would have them read.
The work of revision has reminded me that, small as is this book of mine, it is all in the matter of verse that I have to show for the years between 1872 and 1897. A principal reason is that, after spending the better part of my life in the pursuit of poetry, I found myself (about 1877) so utterly unmarketable that I had to own myself beaten in art, and to addict myself to journalism for the next ten years. Came the production by my old friend, Mr. H. B. Donkin, in his little collection of 'Voluntaries' (1888), compiled for that East-End Hospital to which he has devoted so much time and energy and skill, of those unrhyming rhythms in which I had tried to quintessentialize, as (I believe) one scarce can do in rhyme, my impressions of the Old Edinburgh Infirmary. They had long ​since been rejected by every editor of standing in London—I had wellnigh said in the world; but as soon as Mr. Nutt had read them, he entreated me to look for more. I did as I was told; old dusty sheaves were dragged to light; the work of selection and correction was begun; I burned much; I found that, after all, the lyrical instinct had slept—not died; I ventured (in brief) 'A Book of Verses' It was received with so much interest that I took heart once more, and wrote the numbers presently reprinted from 'The National Observer' in the collection first (1892) called 'The Song of the Sword' and afterwards (1893) 'London Voluntaries.' If I have said nothing since, it is that I have nothing to say which is not, as yet, too personal—too personal and too afflicting—for utterance.
For the matter of my book, it is there to speak for itself:—
I refer to it for the simple pleasure of reflecting that it has made me many friends and some enemies.
W. E. H.
Muswell Hill, 4th September 1897.
CONTENTS
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 (Henley)/Prologue

RHYMES
AND RHYTHMS
1889-1892
# Poems (Henley)/Grave

LONDON
VOLUNTARIES
(To Charles Whibley)
1890-1892
# Poems (Henley)/To my Mother

ECHOES
1872-1889
Aquí está encerrada el alma del licenciado Pedro Garcías.
Gil Blas AU LECTEUR.
# Poems (Henley)/Ballade of a Toyokuni Colour-Print

BRIC-À-BRAC
1877-1888
'The tune of the time.'—Hamlet, concerning Osric
# Poems (Henley)/Arabian Nights' Entertainments

ARABIAN NIGHTS'
ENTERTAINMENTS
(To Elizabeth Robins Pennell)
1893
# Poems (Henley)/The Song of the Sword

THE SONG
OF THE SWORD
(To Rudyard Kipling)
1890
# Poems (Henley)/Enter Patient

IN HOSPITAL
1873-1875
# Brooklyn Eagle/1899/Death of Charles F. Kinner, Captain of the Yacht Nirvana, From a Stroke of Paralysis

* related portals: Charles F. Kinner
* sister projects: Wikidata item
Charles F. Kinner (1829-1899) in the Brooklyn Eagle on February 16, 1899.
Death of Charles F. Kinner, Captain of the Yacht Nirvana, From a Stroke of Paralysis.
Port Jefferson, Long Island; February 16, 1899. Captain Charles F. Kinner died Saturday last of paralysis. Only the day before he attended the funeral of the late Selah S. Brewster, and in the evening he was present at the meeting, of Suffolk Lodge, F. and A. M. The funeral services were conducted by the Rev. E. K. Creed and the members of Suffolk Lodge, of which the deceased was an enthusiastic member. Captain Kinner was 69 years of age. He has led a sea faring, life since boyhood and for the past thirty-five years has followed yachting. At the time of his death he was in command of the schooner yacht Nirvana, owned by the estate of the late George I. Tyson of Riverside and now in winter quarters at this place. He leaves a widow and three children, Mrs. Daniel S. Smith, Captain Charles D. and Joseph Kinner. He was twice married. Mrs. Smith was a daughter by his first wife.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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# Brooklyn Times-Union/1919/George Washington Kinner

* related portals: George Washington Kinner
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, travel guide, Wikidata item
George Washington Kinner (1833-1919) in Brooklyn Times-Union on April 18, 1919.
George Washington Kinner.
Port Jefferson, New York; April 18, 1919. George Washington Kinner, aged 86, died at his home on Main street, Wednesday morning from old age. His death was hastened by the death of his wife, Mrs. Julia A. Kinner, which occurred about three months ago. Mr. Kinner was son of the late Caleb Kinner and born at Coram, Long Island. He is the last member of the immediately family, which there were three brothers, Caleb, Charles and John Howard, and Mrs. Theodore Brush. Mr. Kinner came to Port Jefferson about 50 years ago, just after his marriage to Miss Julia A. Davis, of Middle Island, and they went to housekeeping in the home in which they have always lived. One son was born to them, Caleb Kinner, who died when a small child. Mr. Kinner was a veteran of the Civil War. He enlisted in August 1862, and was member of the 189th Regiment, New York Volunteers. He saw active service for thirty-four months, and was wounded in the battle at Petersburg, Virginia and was invalided to a hospital where his right foot and part of the leg was amputated. After his return home from the war Mr. Kinner was appointed postmaster at the Port Jefferson Post Office and held that position for twenty-one years, after which he lived a retired life. He was a charter member of the Lewis O. Conklin Post No. 627, G.A.R., and had been a member of the Presbyterian Church for a number of years. Funeral services will be held at his late home tomorrow afternoon, and will be conducted by the Rev. A. M. Elliott, of the Presbyterian Church, and the Rev. A. P. Corliss, of the Methodist Church, also the Lewis O. Conklin Post. Interment will be made in Cedar Hill Cemetery.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
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# Jersey Journal/1930/Jerome A. Rappleyea

* related portals: Jerome Anderson Rappleyea I
* sister projects: Wikidata item
Jerome Anderson Rappleyea Sr. (1852-1930) in The Jersey Journal on April 5, 1930.
Jerome A. Rappleyea
Jerome A. Rappleyea, 78, will be buried Monday in New York Bay Cemetery here. He died Thursday at the home in Kenilworth, Union County, where he had resided the last ten years. Death was caused by the infirmities of age. He is survived by his widow, Elisabeth, and a son, Jerome Jr. of Hillside. Rappleyea was born in Jersey City and was a member of Ritchie Lodge, Knights of Pythias, this city. The funeral will be held at the Ogden Mortuary, North Bergen St. and Parker Rd., Elizabeth at 4 p.m. Sunday.
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.
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.
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# Forlorne damsel/The forlorne damsel

The FORLORNE DAMSEL,
YE gods of love that rule above, pity a maid that's wounded,
By Cupid's dart, I feel the ſmart, and grief has me ſurrounded.
I ſigh and moan ſince he is gone, who was my chiefeſt fancy, The other day he fail'd away, and parted from his Nancy.
May woe attend my cruel friends, that caus'd his tranſportation For him I pine, lament and whine, in woeful deſperation,
Through frightful dreams I often ſcream, and ſtart out of my flumber, Then in amaze, around I gaze, and of my dear I ponder.
I cannot blame my darling ſwain, though from me he is parted, His abſence makes me live in pain, I'm almoſt broken hearted.
My parents they sent him away, to face his foes ſo cruel, All for to part from me my heart, my dear and only jewel.
My love is tall, comely withal, and rarely put together, His perſon meek, his breath as ſweet, as dew in ſummer weather.
​His carriage neat, his limbs compleat, and all his frame commodious, When he doth ſing, the woods do ring, his voice is ſo melodious.
O guardian angels be his guide, defend him from all harms, Let no hard fortune him betide, in any wars alarms.
Should he be ſlain on Boſton plain, where cannons roar like thunder, Then death wou'd eaſe me of my pain, and break my heart aſunder.
Although my love has croſs'd the main, 'twas what he ne'er intended, I hope to ſee him once again, whene'er the wars are ended:
When all my griefs will turn to joy, when he is in my arms, Then I'll invite my darling boy, and treat him with my charms.
# Forlorne damsel/The handsome country maid

The Handsome COUNTRY MAID.
As I walked out one morning in May, when-groves are green and vallies gay, Where tender Flora ſent her ſhow'rs, Beſpangling all the fields with flow'rs.
My heart being light I free did rove, Not knowing of the pain of love, In homely attire I did perceive, An admirable beauteous country maid.
​My eyes were raviſhed at the ſight, Whereon I look'd with ſoft delight, A band of Cupids round her play'd, For to divert this country maid.
Patience bid me for to ſtay; Paſſion bid me move away. Nor could my wand'ring heart forbear, Addreſſing this comely lovely fair.
Darling miſtreſs of the grove, That can command all hearts to love, Pity a wandering fwain's condition, With tenderneſs take my petition.
She ſaid, kind Sir, Pray rove no more, I am a farmer's daughter poor; You're a nobleman of great degree, A lady born is beſt for thee.
My dear, I love you out of meaſure, I do deſpiſe all wealth and treaſure, Great eſtates and golden ſtore, Grant me your love I'll aſk no more.
Her faithful heart ſhe did reſign, His hand with honour he did join, And as they paſſed the groves and ſhades, Each nynph took leave of the country maid.
# Forlorne damsel/Tom and Polly's courtship

TOM AND POLLY.
AS Tom and Cupid went aſtray, for to paſs the time away, ​Tom he thought himſelf quite happy, while he walk'd the new mown hay; By the brink of a cryſtal river, joining to a ſhady grove; Cupid being a cunning maſter, he pierc'd him with the dart of love.
A thouſand goddeſſes furrounded, to divert the lovely pair, Polly's beauty, Tom confounded, love's paſſion wrought him to deſpair : How to gain this lovely creature. you god of love pray let me know, Muſt I, ſhall I, kiſs you Polly, ſtill ſhe anſwer'd no, no, no.
To a tavern ſtraight he brought her, gave her liquor of the beſt, By the hand he often ſhook her, ſaying, I love you the beſt. Poll grew warm and thought no harm, after a harmleſs glaſs or two, To what be faid, the ſilly maid, could hardly anſwer no, no, no.
Madam, your ſmiles are ſo engaging, and your bright eyes do me confound, Let my perſuaſions be prevailing, for you have giv'n a mortal wound. By the hand he ſoftly preſs'd her, ſaying, My darling, don't be coy, Muſt i, ſhall I, kiſs you, Polly, then ſhe anſwer'd ay, ay, ay.
# Forlorne damsel/Cruel Nell

CRUEL NELLY.
AH! grieve with me, for I have loſt, What to my ſoul is dear; In meagre black deſpair I'm toſt, And in my hot love paſſion croſt, I now a ghoſt appear.
Now o'er the mead where flowers grow, And yield a fragrant ſmell, Alone I penſive wand'ring go, And look a melancholy woe, And ſigh for cruel Nell.
Her beauteous face, her iv'ry neck, Her moulding boſom round, Raiſe ſuch deſire in me, e-feck; I fear at laſt my heart will break, Behold in tears I'm drown'd.
But then her ſhape 'tis ſuch a one, That I could almoſt ſpan. But oh! ſhe's gone, and I'm undone! And oh! alas! fure as a gun, I am a dying man.
Ah! what a taper leg has ſhe, And ah! her ſnowy thighs; And garter'd too above the knee, 'Tis true (if you'll but believe me) Or elſe I tell a lye.
​Now ſhe may give another ſwain, Her wiſh'd for maiden-head; And grieve for me (ah! hapleſs ſwain) When deep in grave my head is lain- What's that when I am dead?
# Forlorne damsel/The linen weavers

THE LINEN WEAVERS.
LET mirth and loyalty abound, Whilſt we the bumpers fill boys, Let us quaff our bowls without controul, With a hearty free good will boys; Let us toaſt a health to the jovial blades, I mean the lads of the linen trade, Whoſe heroic courage was ne'er diſmay'd, Succeſs to the linen weavers.
The glorious pavillion on the plain, We do rear for the holy Ark to ſtand on, It was garniſhed by both rule and ſquare, None but maſons had a hand in: It was a type of ſanctuary, That after anes endured might be, By the bright ſons of maſonry, Who honour linen weavers.
The eight of Auguſt ninety-eight, They march'd through Dublin city, And all who ſaw their graceful mein, Declar'd them wondrous pretty : Like Eaſtern Rex their banners flew, Compos'd of the Orange and the Blue, ​And amongſt the reſt the golden fleece, To ſhew theſe ſons were weavers.
Next comes the ſtately arched loom, Triumphantly attired, All other arts they ſurely own'd, That the weavers were moſt admired ; For ſince the curtains of the ark, Were wove by the great Jehovah's art, The ſame ſtill remains in every part, To the honour of linen weavers.
When Judea and Iſrael did rebel, and the Chaldeans captivated, When the viſion of God's holy will, Unto Daniel was related ——— When the great Gabriel Divine, Came to declare what Heav'n did ordain, Their ſacred robes like linen did ſhine, So ancient are linen weavers.
King Solomon that mighty Prince, The glorious temple reared, And unto the Lord the fame did dedicate, And for the prieſts prepar'd it, The ſacred garments of linen pure, That in the ſanctuary lodge ſecure, And for ever to this day endure, To the honour of linen wearers.
GLASGOW,
Printed by J.& M. Robertſon, Saltmarket, 1802
# Forlorne damsel

THE
FORLORNE DAMSEL.
to which are added,
The HANDSOME COUNTRY MAID.
TOM and POLLY’S COURTSHIP.
CRUEL NELL.
THE LINEN WEAVERS.
GLASGOW,
Printed by J. and M. Robertson, Saltmarket, 1802
* The Forlorne Damsel
* The Handsome Country Maid
* Tom and Polly's Courtship
* Cruel Nell
* The Linen Weavers
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
# The Forlorn Damsel

* "The forlorne damsel", in Forlorne damsel (1802), a chapbook printed in Glasgow
* "The Forlorn Damsel", in The Braes of Yarrow (1820), a chapbook printed in Edinburgh
# The Braes of Yarrow (1820, Edinburgh)/The Birth of May

THE BIRTH OF MAY.
# Select collection No. XXVIII/The woodpecker

The Woodpecker.
⟨I⟩ knew by the smoke, that so gracefully curl'd Above the green elms, that a cottage was near; ⟨And⟩ I said, if there's peace to be found in the world, A heart that is humble might hope for it here. The heart that is humble, &e. ⟨Ev'ry⟩ leaf was at rest, and I heard not a sound, But the woodpecker tapping the hollow beech tree.
⟨And⟩ here in this lone little wood, I exclaim'd, With a maid who was lovely to soul and to eye, ⟨Who⟩ would blush when I prais'd her, and weep if I blam'd, How blest could I live, and yow calm could I die! How blest could I live, &e. ⟨Ev'ry⟩ leaf was at rest, &c.
​By the shade of yon summach, whose red berry dips In the gush of the fountain, how sweet to recline And to know that I sigh'd upon innocent lips, Which ne'er had been sigh'd on by any but me. Which ne'er had, &c. Evr'y leaf was at rest, &c.
# Bonaparte's farewell/The woodpecker

THE WOODPECKER.
I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curl’d over yonder green elms, that a cottage was near; And I said if there’s peace to be found in the world, the heart that is humble might hope for it here.
​Every leaf was at rest and I heard not a sound, But the Woodpecker tapping the hollow beech tree.
And here, in this lone little wood, I exclaim’d, with a maid that’s delightful to soul and to eye; Who would blush when I prais’d her, would weep if I blam’d, how contented I’d live, and how calm could I die. Every leaf was at rest, &c.
By the shade of yon sumach, whose red berries dip in the gush of the fountain, how sweet to recline, And to know that I sigh’d upon innocent lips, which never were sigh’d on by any but mine. Every leaf was at rest, &c.
# Battle of Sheriff Muir/The Woodpecker

THE WOODPECKER.
I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curl'd, Around the green elm, that a cottage was near, And I said if there's peace to be found in this world, The heart that is humble might hope for it here, Every leaf was at rest and I heard nut a sound, But the Woodpecker tapping the hollow beech tree.
By the side of yon grove where the green willow dips In the gush of yon fountain how sweet to recline, And to know that I sigh'd upon innocent lips, That ne'er had bees sigh'd on by any but mine. Every leaf was at rest, &c.
And here in this love little cot, I exclaim'd, With a maid that was lovely to soul and to eye, Who would blush when I prais'd her, and weep if I blam'd. How blest could I live, and how calm could I die. Every leaf was at rest,.&c.
# The Woodpecker (1825)/The woodpecker

THE WOODPECKER
I knew by the smoke that so gracefully curl'd, Around the green elm, that a cottage was near, And I said if there's peace to be found in the world The heart that is humble might hope for it here, Every leaf was at rest and I heard not a sound, But the Woodpecker tapping the hollow beech tree.
By the side o' yon grove where the green willow dips In the gush of yon fountain how sweet to recline, And to know that I sighed upon innocent lips, That ne'er had been sigh'd on by any but mine; Every leaf was at rest &c
And here in this lone little cot, I exclaim'd, With a maid that was lovely to soul and to eye, Who would blush when I prais'd her and weep when I bless'd, How blest could I live and how calm could I die. Every leaf was at rest, &c.
# Select collection No. XXVIII

Select Collection.
NO. XXVIII.
1. The bonny House of Airly.
2. The Woodpecker.
3. The Bloody Plains of Waterloo.
4. The Lass of Woodhouselee.
EDINBURGH:
Printed for the Booksellers.
* The Bonny House of Airly
* The Woodpecker
* The Bloody Plains of Waterloo
* The Lass of Woodhouselee
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
# Select collection No. XXVIII/The bonny house of Airly

The bonny House of Airly.
It fell on a day, and a bonny summer day, When the corn grew green and yellow, That there fell out a great dispute Between Argyle and Airly.
Argyle has raised a hundred men, A hundred men and mairly, And he has gone to the back of Dunkeld, To plunder the bonny house of Airly.
The lady look'd over her window, And oh! but she look'd weary, And she espy'd the great Argyle Coming to phinder the bonny house of Airly.
Come down, come down, Madam, he says, Come down and kiss me fairly; I will not kiss thee, great Argle, If ye should not leave a standing stone in Airly.
He has ta'en her by the middle so small, Says, Lady, where is your dowry; It is up and down the bonny burn-side, Among the plantings of Airly.
They sought it up, they sought it down, They sought it late and airly, And found it in the bonny palm tree, That shines on the bowling green of Airly.
He has ta'en her by the left shoulder, And O but she look'd weary, ​And laid her down on the green bank, Till he plunder'd the bonny house of Airley.
O! if my good Lord was at home, As this night he is wi' Charlie. Great Argyle and all his men Durst not plunder the bouny house of Airly.
Tis ten bonny sons I have born, And the eleventh ne'er saw his daddie; And if I had a hundred more, I w ould give them all to Charlie.
# Select collection No. XXVIII/The bloody plains of Waterloo

The Bloody Plains of Waterloo.
Come all you valiant heroes bold, I pray you lend an ear, There was not such a battle fought, No not this many a year. All on the plains of Waterloo, On the 18th day of June, Against the proud sons of France, We pull'd their emperor down.
CHORUS.
As on the plains of Waterloo, It was a bloody fray, And ages yet unborn shall read The glories of that day.
'Twas on the 16th day of June, The battle it began, With courage bold each hero fought, With valour every man. And at the hour of twelve o'clock, Began the bloody fight, ​And the battle was not ended, Till it dropt the veil of night.
'Twas on the 17th day of June, About the hour of nine, The British and the Prussians, Their armies did combine. The Duke of Wellington came up, All with a warlike band; Come, come my boys, we'll beat them down, While we have power to stand.
When the Prussian cavalry came up, They fought like lions bold, Led on by General Blucher, Of eighty-three years old. Like lions bold undaunted then We forced them to fly. Come, come, cries General Blucher, We'll conquer them or die.
But when the dreadful morn came in, The 18th day of June, And near the hour of twelve o'clock, Ten thousand were cut down. Then cried the Duke of Wellington, Come on my warlike men, This is the day they'll conquer us, Or we will conquer them.
They closed full fast on either side, No slackness could be found, ​And many a thousand heroes bold, Lay dead upon the ground. Ready was Duke Wellington, To lay the Frenchmen's pride, The fields were stain'd with crimson blood, Death rag'd on every side.
Great guns did roar like thunder, The battle rag'd amain, And in this gallant action, Many thousands there were slain. One hundred and twenty cannons, From them we took away, Six eagles fine we took from them, All on that glorious day.
We hope this glorious action, Will bring peace for evermore, All nations shall united be, Through every distant shore. Success unto Duke Wellington, Who gained this glorious day, Likewise unto General Blucher, That always fought his way.