OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Marriage and Morals/Chapter XVII

Chapter XVII
Population
The main purpose of marriage is to replenish the human population of the globe. Some marriage systems perform this task inadequately, some too adequately. It is from this point of view that I wish to consider sexual morality in the present chapter.
In a state of nature, the larger mammals require a considerable area per head to keep themselves alive. Consequently, the total population of any species of large wild mammal is small. The population of sheep and cows is considerable, but that is due to human agency. The population of human beings is quite out of proportion to that of any other large mammal. This, of course, is due to our skill. The invention of bows and arrows, the domestication of ruminants, the beginnings of agriculture, and the industrial revolution, all of them increased the number of persons who could subsist on a square mile. The last of these economic advances, as we know ​Page:Bertrand Russell - Marriage and Morals (1929 printing, Horace Liveright, white pages).pdf/253 ​Page:Bertrand Russell - Marriage and Morals (1929 printing, Horace Liveright, white pages).pdf/254 ​Page:Bertrand Russell - Marriage and Morals (1929 printing, Horace Liveright, white pages).pdf/255 ​Page:Bertrand Russell - Marriage and Morals (1929 printing, Horace Liveright, white pages).pdf/256 ​Page:Bertrand Russell - Marriage and Morals (1929 printing, Horace Liveright, white pages).pdf/257 ​Page:Bertrand Russell - Marriage and Morals (1929 printing, Horace Liveright, white pages).pdf/258 ​Page:Bertrand Russell - Marriage and Morals (1929 printing, Horace Liveright, white pages).pdf/259 ​Page:Bertrand Russell - Marriage and Morals (1929 printing, Horace Liveright, white pages).pdf/260 ​Page:Bertrand Russell - Marriage and Morals (1929 printing, Horace Liveright, white pages).pdf/261 ​Page:Bertrand Russell - Marriage and Morals (1929 printing, Horace Liveright, white pages).pdf/262 ​Page:Bertrand Russell - Marriage and Morals (1929 printing, Horace Liveright, white pages).pdf/263 ​Page:Bertrand Russell - Marriage and Morals (1929 printing, Horace Liveright, white pages).pdf/264 ​Page:Bertrand Russell - Marriage and Morals (1929 printing, Horace Liveright, white pages).pdf/265
# Twentieth Century Impressions of Hongkong, Shanghai, and other Treaty Ports of China/Ceremonies/Music and Games

MUSIC AND GAMES.
No Chinese festivity is complete without music. According to popular tradition, the Emperor Fu, a contemporary of Tubal, invented "the divine art," and taught his people its rudimentary rules some four thousand years ago. There are now numerous examples of the three main classes of musical instruments—stringed, wind, and percussion. Of operatic airs, used in theatrical performances, there are, perhaps, not more than a dozen, but there are numbers of tuneful melodies to which songs are set. Chinese music can, of course, be rendered on the violin or other instrument of the viol tribe, upon the trombone, or by the human voice, but it cannot be exactly reproduced on a piano or other keyed instrument, or upon a European fretted stringed instrument, as there is a slight difference between the intervals of the Chinese scale and that used in the West. The inattentive ear will not readily distinguish any tune in music played by a Chinese band, and will probably receive an impression of melancholy and monotonous discords, but the careful listener may identify the various tunes, and will, without doubt, be surprised at the skill displayed by the musicians in performing upon most primitive instruments.
Of games there is an infinite variety, from ​games of chance, which gratify the almost universal love of gambling, to games comparable only to chess in the demands they make upon the skill of the exponent. Elephant kee, as it is called, is, in fact, very similar to the great scientitic game played by Western nations, in that the checkmating of the king, or commander, decides the issue. The Chinese game is based on military tactics, and, for the reason that women are not supposed to go to war, there is no queen. For hundreds of years this has been a favourite pastime of the educated classes, and its origin is lost in antiquity.
# Card fortune-book

CARD
Fortune-Book:
FOR THE BENEFIT OF
Young Men and Blooming Maids;
Who, by drawing Cards, as directed in this Book, may know whether Life shall be long or short; whether they shall have the Person desired; or any lawful Question.
PRINTED AT 3, MARY-ST. DUBLIN.
This work was published before January 1, 1930, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Jersey Journal/1912/Held On Charge Of Striking Woman

Peter Rice (1879-1944) in the Jersey Journal on March 21, 1912.
Held On Charge Of Striking Woman
Peter Rice, 32 years old, of 350 Henderson Street, was arrested by Police Lieut. Lynch last night and held for examination by Police Judge Queen in the Second Criminal Court this morning on the charge of having assaulted Maggie Blucher, of 195 Grand Street, with his fist, breaking her nose. The assault occurred on Henderson Street near York Street. Rice admitted striking the woman, charging that he did so because she had written insulting letters about him to his friends. Joseph Rice, brother of Peter, was held on a charge of having instigated the assault. The woman had her wounds dressed at the City Hospital.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1930.
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 Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/Daphne

DAPHNE
Why do you follow me?— Any moment I can be Nothing but a laurel-tree.
Any moment of the chase I can leave you in my place A pink bough for your embrace.
Yet if over hill and hollow Still it is your will to follow, I am off;—to heel, Apollo!
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)

​A FEW FIGS FROM THISTLES
POEMS AND SONNETS
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems
Renascence and other poems
Second April
Three Plays
Aria da Capo
Two Slatterns and a King
The Lamp and the Bell
The King's Henchman
A FEW FIGS FROM THISTLES
POEMS AND SONNETS
BY EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY
Harper & Brothers Publishers New York and London
A Few Figs From Thistles
Copyright, 1922, by Edna St. Vincent Millay
Printed in the United States of America
​Thanks are due to the editors of Ainslie's, The Dial, Pearson's, Poetry, Reedy's Mirror, and Vanity Fair for their kind permission to republish various of these poems.
This edition of "A Few Figs from Thistles" contains several poems not included in earlier editions.
CONTENTS
A FEW FIGS FROM THISTLES
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1930.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1950, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 74 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 Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/First Fig

FIRST FIG
My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends— It gives a lovely light!
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/MacDougal Street

MACDOUGAL STREET
As I went walking up and down to take the evening air, (Sweet to meet upon the street, why must I be so shy?) I saw him lay his hand upon her torn black hair; ("Little dirty Latin child, let the lady by!")
The women squatting on the stoops were slovenly and fat, (Lay me out in organdie, lay me out in lawn!) And everywhere I stepped there was a baby or a cat; (Lord, God in Heaven, will it never be dawn?)
The fruit-carts and clam-carts were ribald as a fair, (Pink nets and wet shells trodden under heel) She had haggled from the fruit-man of his rotting ware; (I shall never get to sleep, the way I feel!)
He walked like a king through the filth and the clutter,
(Sweet to meet upon the street, why did you glance me by?) But he caught the quaint Italian quip she flung him from the gutter; (What can there be to cry about that I should lie and cry?)
He laid his darling hand upon her little black head, (I wish I were a ragged child with ear-rings in my ears!) And he said she was a baggage to have said what she had said; (Truly I shall be ill unless I stop these tears!)
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/Grown-Up

GROWN-UP
Was it for this I uttered prayers, And sobbed and cursed and kicked the stairs, That now, domestic as a plate, I should retire at half-past eight?
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/Midnight Oil

MIDNIGHT OIL
Cut if you will, with Sleep's dull knife, Each day to half its length, my friend,— The years that Time takes off my life, He'll take from off the other end!
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/Recuerdo

RECUERDO
We were very tired, we were very merry— We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry. It was bare and bright, and smelled like a stable— But we looked into a fire, we leaned across a table, We lay on the hill-top underneath the moon; And the whistles kept blowing, and the dawn came soon.
We were very tired, we were very merry— We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry; And you ate an apple, and I ate a pear, From a dozen of each we had bought somewhere; And the sky went wan, and the wind came cold, And the sun rose dripping, a bucketful of gold.
We were very tired, we were very merry, We had gone back and forth all night on the ferry. We hailed, "Good morrow, mother!" to a shawl-covered head, And bought a morning paper, which neither of us read;
And she wept, "God bless you!" for the apples and the pears, And we gave her all our money but our subway fares.
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/Portrait by a Neighbor

PORTRAIT BY A NEIGHBOR
Before she has her floor swept Or her dishes done, Any day you'll find her A-sunning in the sun!
It's long after midnight Her key's in the lock, And you never see her chimney smoke Till past ten o'clock!
She digs in her garden With a shovel and a spoon, She weeds her lazy lettuce By the light of the moon.
She walks up the walk Like a woman in a dream, She forgets she borrowed butter And pays you back cream!
Her lawn looks like a meadow, And if she mows the place She leaves the clover standing And the Queen Anne's lace!
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/Second Fig

SECOND FIG
Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand: Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/She Is Overhead Singing

SHE IS OVERHEARD SINGING
On, Prue she has a patient man, And Joan a gentle lover, And Agatha's Arth' is a hug-the-hearth,— But my true love's a rover!
Mig, her man's as good as cheese And honest as a briar, Sue tells her love what he's thinking of,— But my dear lad's a liar!
Oh, Sue and Prue and Agatha Are thick with Mig and Joan! They bite their threads and shake their heads And gnaw my name like a bone;
And Prue says, "Mine's a patient man, As never snaps me up," And Agatha, "Arth' is a hug-the-hearth, Could live content in a cup,"
Sue's man's mind is like good jell— All one color, and clear— And Mig's no call to think at all What's to come next year,
While Joan makes boast of a gentle lad, That's troubled with that and this;— But they all would give the life they live For a look from the man I kiss!
Cold he slants his eyes about, And few enough's his choice,— Though he'd slip me clean for a nun, or a queen, Or a beggar with knots in her voice,—
And Agatha will turn awake When her good man sleeps sound, And Mig and Sue and Joan and Prue Will hear the clock strike round,
For Prue she has a patient man, As asks not when or why, And Mig and Sue have naught to do But peep who's passing by,
Joan is paired with a putterer That bastes and tastes and salts, And Agatha's Arth' is a hug-the-hearth,— But my true love is false!
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/Sonnet 2

II
I think I should have loved you presently, And given in earnest words I flung in jest; And lifted honest eyes for you to see, And caught your hand against my cheek and breast; And all my pretty follies flung aside That won you to me, and beneath your gaze, Naked of reticence and shorn of pride, Spread like a chart my little wicked ways. I, that had been to you, had you remained, But one more waking from a recurrent dream, Cherish no less the certain stakes I gained, And walk your memory's halls, austere, supreme, A ghost in marble of a girl you knew Who would have loved you in a day or two.
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/Sonnet 3

III
Oh, think not I am faithful to a vow! Faithless am I save to love's self alone. Were you not lovely I would leave you now: After the feet of beauty fly my own. Were you not still my hunger's rarest food, And water ever to my wildest thirst, I would desert you—think not but I would!— And seek another as I sought you first. But you are mobile as the veering air, And all your charms more changeful than the tide, Wherefore to be inconstant is no care: I have but to continue at your side. So wanton, light and false, my love, are you, I am most faithless when I most am true.
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/Sonnet 1

​FOUR SONNETS
I
Love, though for this you riddle me with darts, And drag me at your chariot till I die,— Oh, heavy prince! Oh, panderer of hearts!— Yet hear me tell how in their throats they lie Who shour you mighty: thick about my hair, Day in, day out, your ominous arrows purr, Who still am free, unto no querulous care A fool, and in no temple worshiper! I, that have bared me to your quiver's fire, Lifted my face into its puny rain, Do wreathe you Impotent to Evoke Desire As you are Powerless to Elicit Pain! (Now will the god, for blasphemy so brave, Punish me, surely, with the shaft I crave!)
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/The Merry Maid

THE MERRY MAID
Oh, I am grown so free from care Since my heart broke! I set my throat against the air, I laugh at simple folk!
There's little kind and little fair Is worth its weight in smoke To me, that's grown so free from care Since my heart broke!
Lass, if to sleep you would repair As peaceful as you woke, Best not besiege your lover there For just the words he spoke To me, that's grown so free from care Since my heart broke!
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/The Penitent

THE PENITENT
I had a little Sorrow, Born of a little Sin, I found a room all damp with gloom And shut us all within; And, "Little Sorrow, weep," said I, "And, Little Sin, pray God to die, And I upon the floor will lie And think how bad I've been!"
Alas for pious planning— It mattered not a whit! As far as gloom went in that room, The lamp might have been lit! My Little Sorrow would not weep, My Little Sin would go to sleep— To save my soul I could not keep My graceless mind on it!
So up I got in anger, And took a book I had,
And put a ribbon on my hair To please a passing lad. And, "One thing there's no getting by— I've been a wicked girl," said I; "But if I can't be sorry, why, I might as well be glad!"
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/The Singing-Woman From the Wood's Edge

THE SINGING-WOMAN FROM THE WOOD'S EDGE
What should I be but a prophet and a liar, Whose mother was a leprechaun, whose father was a friar? Teethed on a crucifix and cradled under water, What should I be but the fiend's god-daughter?
And who should be my playmates but the adder and the frog, That was got beneath a furze-bush and born in a bog? And what should be my singing, that was christened at an altar, But Aves and Credos and Psalms out of the Psalter?
You will see such webs on the wet grass, maybe, As a pixie-mother weaves for her baby, You will find such flame at the wave's weedy ebb As flashes in the meshes of a mer-mother's web,
But there comes to birth no common spawn From the love of a priest for a leprechaun, And you never have seen and you never will see Such things as the things that swaddled me!
After all's said and after all's done, What should I be but a harlot and a nun?
In through the bushes, on any foggy day, My Da would come a-swishing of the drops away, With a prayer for my death and a groan for my birth, A-mumbling of his beads for all that he was worth.
And there sit my Ma, her knees beneath her chin, A-looking in his face and a-drinking of it in, And a-marking in the moss some funny little saying That would mean just the opposite of all that he was praying!
He taught me the holy-talk of Vesper and of Matin, He heard me my Greek and he heard me my Latin, He blessed me and crossed me to keep my soul from evil, And we watched him out of sight, and we conjured up the devil!
Oh, the things I haven't seen and the things I haven't known, What with hedges and ditches till after I was grown, And yanked both ways by my mother and my father, With a "Which would you better?" and a "Which would you rather?"
With him for a sire and her for a dam, What should I be but just what I am?
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/The Philosopher

THE PHILOSOPHER
And what are you that, missing you, I should be kept awake As many nights as there are days With weeping for your sake?
And what are you that, missing you, As many days as crawl I should be listening to the wind And looking at the wall?
I know a man that's a braver man And twenty men as kind, And what are you, that you should be The one man in my mind?
Yet women's ways are witless ways, As any sage will tell,— And what am I, that I should love So wisely and so well?
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/The Prisoner

THE PRISONER
All right, Go ahead! What's in a name? I guess I'll be locked into As much as I'm locked out of!
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/To S. M.

TO S. M.
IF HE SHOULD LIE A-DYING
I am not willing you should go Into the earth, where Helen went; She is awake by now, I know. Where Cleopatra's anklets rust You will not lie with my consent; And Sappho is a roving dust; Cressid could love again; Dido, Rotted in state, is restless still; You leave me much against my will.
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/The Unexplorer

THE UNEXPLORER
There was a road ran past our house Too lovely to explore. I asked my mother once—she said That if you followed where it led It brought you to the milk-man's door. (That's why I have not traveled more.)
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/Sonnet 4

IV
I shall forget you presently, my dear, So make the most of this, your little day, Your little month, your little half a year, Ere I forget, or die, or move away, And we are done forever; by and by I shall forget you, as I said, but now, If you entreat me with your loveliest lie I will protest you with my favorite vow. I would indeed that love were longer-lived, And vows were not so brittle as they are, But so it is, and nature has contrived To struggle on without a break thus far,— Whether or not we find what we are seeking Is idle, biologically speaking.
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/Thursday

THURSDAY
And if I loved you Wednesday, Well, what is that to you? I do not love you Thursday— So much is true.
And why you come complaining Is more than I can see. I loved you Wednesday,—yes—but what Is that to me?
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/To the Not Impossible Him

TO THE NOT IMPOSSIBLE HIM
How shall I know, unless I go To Cairo and Cathay, Whether or not this blessed spot Is blest in every way?
Now it may be, the flower for me Is this beneath my nose; How shall I tell, unless I smell The Carthaginian rose?
The fabric of my faithful love No power shall dim or ravel Whilst I stay here,—but oh, my dear, If I should ever travel!
# A Few Figs from Thistles (Harper & Brothers, 1922)/To Kathleen

TO KATHLEEN
Still must the poet as of old, In barren attic bleak and cold, Starve, freeze, and fashion verses to Such things as flowers and song and you;
Still as of old his being give In Beauty's name, while she may live, Beauty that may not die as long As there are flowers and you and song.
# The New International Encyclopædia/Anastasia

Edition of 1905. See also Anastasia the Patrician on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​AN′ASTA′SIA (?-597). A Greek saint. Her beauty attracted the Emperor Justinian, and in order to escape his dishonorable attentions she retired to Alexandria, where she lived twenty-eight years, disguised as a monk. The date of her commemoration is March 10th.
# The New International Encyclopædia/Anastasia, Saint

Edition of 1905. See also Basilissa and Anastasia on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​ANASTASIA, Saint. A Christian martyr, slain during the reign of Nero (54–68 A.D.). She is said to have been a pupil of St. Peter and St. Paul. The date of her commemoration is April 15th.
# The New International Encyclopædia/Anastasia the Younger

Edition of 1905. See also Anastasia of Sirmium on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​ANASTASIA THE YOUNG′ER. A noble Roman woman who suffered martyrdom during the Diocletian persecution (303 A.D.); the wife of Publius, a pagan, who informed against her as a Christian. Two letters written by her in prison are preserved in Suidas. The Greeks commemorate her as a saint on December 22d; the Latins, on December 25th.
# The New International Encyclopædia/Anastasius I.

Edition of 1905. See also Anastasius I Dicorus on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​AN′ASTA′SIUS I. (c. 438–518). Emperor of the East. He was proclaimed emperor at Constantinople on the death of Zeno, in 491. He was a native of Dyrrachium, but had spent most of his life in public office at Constantinople. He was about fifty-three years old at his accession, and was noted for his ability, integrity, and justice. “Reign as you have lived” was the cry with which he was greeted on his first public appearance. He married the widow of Zeno, but had no children. His reign was troubled by local revolts, by a war with Persia in 503–505, and by invasions of Huns, Slavs, and Bulgarians. To check the last, Anastasius built, in 512, the wall which bears his name, 35 miles west of Constantinople. Yet his reign was a very prosperous one. He was unpopular with some, because he was suspected of being addicted to the Monophysite heresy (q.v.); with others, because he was thought to be too puritanical. He suppressed gladiatorial combats with wild beasts and licentious dances. He erected fortresses on the boundaries, restored ruined cities, suppressed some of the most obnoxious taxes; yet he left the treasury, which he had found empty, filled with 320,000 pounds of gold; and a well-disciplined army of 150,000 men. He preserved the Empire intact, having governed it wisely, leniently, and justly.
# The New International Encyclopædia/Anastasius II.

Edition of 1905. See also Anastasius II (emperor) on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
​ANASTASIUS II. (died 719?). Emperor of the East, elected to the throne of Constantinople by the Senate and people in 713. He organized a formidable naval force, which mutinied at Rhodes and proclaimed Theodosius, a low person, emperor. Theodosius took Constantinople six ​months later, and deposed Anastasius (716), who escaped to Thessalonica and became a monk. He was a man of wisdom and experience, who attempted various reforms, and thereby excited the wrath of many who saw their person or property endangered.