OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Poems (Sigourney, 1827)/Greece

GREECE.
Clime of the unprotected brave!
 Clime of the ancient, and the free! Whose blood stain'd banners boldly wave
 Mid storms that rock the Ægean sea,
With arm supine, and careless thought
 Why gaze we on thy conflict dire? To win that prize our fathers bought,
 Why tamely see thy sons expire?
True,—we can glow at Homer's lay,
 Enraptured hang o'er Pindar's lyre, Start at thy pencil's deathless ray,  Thy breathing marble's force admire,
At awful Marathon can list
 To catch the Persian's tone of shame,
At proud Thermopylæ assist
 To bind the immortal wreath of fame;
But when from slaughter'd Scio speeds
 The Moslem curse, the helpless cry, The echo of unutter'd deeds,—
 We tax our pity with a sigh!
Oh Ye! who saw the mighty yield
 On Saratoga's laurell'd plain
Or bade on Monmouth's fervid field
 Your wounded bosoms flow like rain,—
Rise!—though your wasted locks be gray,
 Though chill'd with want your last retreat, Lift high the wither'd hand, and say
 How strong your kindred pulses beat,—
Rise!—tell your sons what generous pain,
 What warm, indignant zeal revives, When 'gainst oppression's wreathed chain
 The crush'd, yet lofty spirit strives;—
And tell their cradled babes the tale,—
 How oft to wrest the tyrant's rod
Do Liberty and Truth prevail
 Clad in the panoply of God,—
Then, ere the holy tear shall cease
 To dew their cheek like rose-bud fair,
Devoutly stamp the name of Greece
 Deep, on their unpolluted prayer.
# Poems (Sigourney, 1827)/Hope and Memory

HOPE AND MEMORY.
Sweet friend of man!—whose airy form,
 With eye of azure ray,
Is seen through every gathering storm,
 Companion of his way,
Thou, on his infant lip dost press
 Thy signet with a smile,
And on through nature's weariness
 His pilgrimage beguile.
When disappointments wake regret,
 Or dangers threaten loud,
He scarce can shrink, ere thou dost set
 Thy rainbow on the cloud.
He scarce can weep, ere thou art nigh
 To prism the falling tear,
To snatch the half unutter'd sigh
 And paint thy visions clear.
But chiefly, when the dying saint
 On his last couch reclines,
When lights of earth are dim and faint
 Thy brightest lustre shines.
Thy smile is glorious to his eye,
 Thy brow like seraph fair,
Thou point'st his journey to the sky
 But may'st not follow there.
Thy friendship soften'd mortal ill
 Thy worth was drawn from wo,—
So thou wert nourish'd by a rill
 Which there can never flow.
Well pleased wert thou to cheer the toil,
 Beguile the short pursuit.
And sow bright seeds in sorrow's soil
 That man might reap the fruit.
But when his beating pulse declines,
 Thy own is chill and dead,
And ere his resurrection shines,
 Thy taper's ray hath fled.
Yet one there is, who braves the blast,
 When Hope oblivious sleeps,
Whose glance averted, loves the past,
 Whose hand its record keeps.
She gilds no fairy scenes for youth,
 No flight with fancy takes,
But in the holy cell of truth
 Her meek pavilion makes.
The key she guards, with wary eye,
 Where knowledge hides her store,
To conscience gives the unfading die,
 Which glows when life is o'er.
The wise, the virtuous love to wait
 Within her silent bower,
The thoughtless shun, the fickle hate,
 The guilty dread her power.
When death's dark curtain veils the eyes,
 Resplendent glows her ray,
And when the unrobed spirit flies
 She shares its unknown way.
Through the drear valley hung with gloom,
 She bears her guarded scroll,
And spreads it at the bar of doom
 While justice weighs the soul.
Dauntless she treads the troubled sphere
 Of undefined despair,
And they who stain'd her record here
 Must feel her vengeance there.
If Mercy to a glorious land
 The pardon'd soul invite,
She hovers round that perfect band
 Who dwell in cloudless light.
And oft her tablet's varied trace
 Of mortal care and pain,
From angel harps to God shall raise
 The loudest, sweetest strain.
Sweet Hope! we bless thy gentle aid
 To earth and sorrow given;—
But Memory! dear, immortal maid,
 Thy worth is known in heaven.
# Poems (Sigourney, 1827)/Harvest Hymn

HARVEST HYMN.
God of Nature! God of Love!
 Smile upon our festive rite,
Thou who bidd'st the Seasons prove
 Circling sources of delight.
Spring, a rainbow promise bears,
 Summer decks the ripening plain,
Autumn sings amid his cares,
 Guiding home the loaded wain.
Winter with his snowy vest,
 Revels in their blended spoil,
Lulls the wearied earth to rest,
 Braces man for future toil.
Morning, bright with golden rays,
 Evening, dark with ebon pall,
Speak in varied tones Thy praise,
 Architect, and Sire of all!
We, for whom yon groves are drest,
 Yon green vales their treasures pour,
Still by liberal nature blest
 With her most luxuriant store,
We, to whom indulgent skies
 Plenty, health, and peace impart.
Bid in fragrant offerings rise
 Incense from the grateful heart.