OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/The Lotos-Eaters

The Lotos-Eaters.
The main idea in "The Lotus-Eaters" is, are we justified in running away from unpleasant duties? Or, is insensibility justifiable?
Laddie, do you recollect learning this poem after we had read the story of "Odysseus"? "The struggle of the soul urged to action, but held back by the spirit of self-indulgence." These were the points we discussed. Alfred Tennyson (1809-92).
"Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land, "This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon." In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemèd always afternoon. All round the coast the languid air did swoon, Breathing like one that hath a weary dream. Full-faced above the valley stood the moon; And like a downward smoke, the slender stream Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.
A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke, Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go; And some thro' wavering lights and shadows broke, Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below. They saw the gleaming river seaward flow From the inner land: far off, three mountaintops, Three silent pinnacles of agèd snow, Stood sunset-flush'd: and, dew'd with showery drops, Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.
The charmèd sunset lingered low adown In the red West: thro' mountain clefts the dale ​Was seen far inland, and the yellow down Border'd with palm, and many a winding vale And meadow, set with slender galingale; A land where all things always seem'd the same! And round about the keel with faces pale, Dark faces pale against that rosy flame, The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came.
Branches they bore of that enchanted stem, Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave To each, but whoso did receive of them, And taste, to him the gushing of the wave Far, far away did seem to mourn and rave On alien shores; and if his fellow spake, His voice was thin, as voices from the grave; And deep-asleep he seem'd, yet all awake, And music in his ears his beating heart did make.
They sat them down upon the yellow sand, Between the sun and moon upon the shore; And sweet it was to dream of Fatherland, Of child, and wife, and slave; but evermore Most weary seem'd the sea, weary the oar, Weary the wandering fields of barren foam. Then some one said, "We will return no more;" And all at once they sang, "Our island home Is far beyond the wave we will no longer roam."
Alfred Tennyson.
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/The Lye

The Lye.
"The Lye," by Sir Walter Raleigh (1552-1618), is one of the strongest and most appealing poems a teacher can read to her pupils when teaching early American history. The poem is full of magnificent lines, such as "Go, soul, the body's guest." The poem never lacks an attentive audience of young people when correlated with the study of North Carolina and Sir Walter Raleigh. The solitary, majestic character of Sir Walter Raleigh, his intrepidity while undergoing tortures inflicted by a cowardly king, the ring of indignation—all these make a weapon for him stronger than the ax that beheaded him. In this poem he "has the last word."
Goe, soule, the bodie's guest, Upon a thanklesse arrant; Feare not to touche the best— The truth shall be thy warrant! Goe, since I needs must dye, And give the world the lye.
Goe tell the court it glowes And shines like rotten wood; Goe tell the church it showes What's good, and doth no good; If church and court reply, Then give them both the lye.
​Tell potentates they live Acting by others' actions— Not loved unlesse they give, Not strong but by their factions; If potentates reply, Give potentates the lye.
Tell men of high condition, That rule affairs of state, Their purpose is ambition, Their practice only hate; And if they once reply, Then give them all the lye.
Tell zeale it lacks devotion; Tell love it is but lust; Tell time it is but motion; Tell flesh it is but dust; And wish them not reply, For thou must give the lye.
Tell wit how much it wrangles In tickle points of nicenesse; Tell wisdome she entangles Herselfe in over-wisenesse; And if they do reply, Straight give them both the lye.
Tell physicke of her boldnesse; Tell skill it is pretension; Tell charity of coldnesse; Tell law it is contention; And as they yield reply, So give them still the lye.
​Tell fortune of her blindnesse; Tell nature of decay; Tell friendship of unkindnesse; Tell justice of delay; And if they dare reply, Then give them all the lye.
Tell arts they have no soundnesse, But vary by esteeming; Tell schooles they want profoundnesse, And stand too much on seeming; If arts and schooles reply, Give arts and schooles the lye.
So, when thou hast, as I Commanded thee, done blabbing— Although to give the lye Deserves no less than stabbing— Yet stab at thee who will, No stab the soule can kill.
Sir Walter Raleigh.
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/The Man With the Hoe

The Man With the Hoe.
"The Man With the Hoe" is purely an American product, and every American ought to be proud of it, for we want no such type allowed to be developed in this country as the low-browed peasant of France. This poem is a stroke of genius. The story goes that it so offended a modern plutocrat that he offered a reward of $10,000 to any one who could write an equally good poem in rebuttal. "The Man With the Hoe" has won for Edwin Markham the title of "Poet Laureate of the Labouring Classes."
WRITTEN AFTER SEEING THE PAINTING BY MILLET.
God made man in His own image, in the image of God made He him.—Genesis.
Bowed by the weight of centuries he leans Upon his hoe and gazes on the ground, The emptiness of ages in his face, And on his back the burden of the world. Who made him dead to rapture and despair, A thing that grieves not and that never hopes, Stolid and stunned, a brother to the ox? Who loosened and let down this brutal jaw? Whose was the hand that slanted back this brow? Whose breath blew out the light within this brain?
Is this the Thing the Lord God made and gave To have dominion over sea and land; To trace the stars and search the heavens for power; To feel the passion of Eternity? Is this the Dream He dreamed who shaped the suns And marked their ways upon the ancient deep? Down all the stretch of Hell to its last gulf There is no shape more terrible than this— More tongued with censure of the world's blind greed— ​More filled with signs and portents for the soul— More fraught with menace to the universe.
What gulfs between him and the seraphim! Slave of the wheel of labour, what to him Are Plato and the swing of Pleiades? What the long reaches of the peaks of song, The rift of dawn, the reddening of the rose? Through this dread shape the suffering ages look; Time's tragedy is in that aching stoop; Through this dread shape humanity betrayed, Plundered, profaned, and disinherited, Cries protest to the Judges of the World, A protest that is also prophecy.
O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands, Is this the handiwork you give to God, This monstrous thing distorted and soul-quenched? How will you ever straighten up this shape; Touch it again with immortality; Give back the upward looking and the light; Rebuild in it the music and the dream; Make right the immemorial infamies, Perfidious wrongs, immedicable woes?
O masters, lords, and rulers in all lands, How will the future reckon with this Man? How answer his brute question in that hour When whirlwinds of rebellion shake the world? How will it be with kingdoms and with kings— With those who shaped him to the thing he is— When this dumb Terror shall reply to God, After the silence of the centuries?
Edwin Markham.
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/The Landing of the Pilgrims

The Landing of the Pilgrims.
"The Landing of the Pilgrims," by Felicia Hemans (1749-1835), is a poem that children want when they study the early history of America.
The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed.
And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore
Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame.
Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear; They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Amid the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free!
​The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam; And the rocking pines of the forest roared,— This was their welcome home!
There were men with hoary hair, Amid that pilgrim band; Why had they come to wither there, Away from their childhood's land?
There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth; There was manhood's brow serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth.
What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?— They sought a faith's pure shrine!
Ay! call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod: They have left unstained what there they found, Freedom to worship God.
Felicia Hemans.
# Poems That Every Child Should Know/The Last Rose of Summer

The Last Rose of Summer.
'Tis the last rose of summer Left blooming alone; All her lovely companions Are faded and gone; No flower of her kindred, No rose-bud is nigh, To reflect back her blushes, Or give sigh for sigh.
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one! To pine on the stem; Since the lovely are sleeping, Go, sleep thou with them. Thus kindly I scatter Thy leaves o'er the bed Where thy mates of the garden Lie scentless and dead.
So soon may I follow, When friendships decay, And from Love's shining circle The gems drop away. When true hearts lie withered, And fond ones are flown, O! who would inhabit This bleak world alone?
Thomas Moore.
# Perseus

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Perseus."
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
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.
* Author:Perseus, (150 BCE – 2nd century BCE)
* A Book of Myths/Perseus the Hero
* A Field Book of the Stars/Perseus
* Heroes Every Child Should Know/Perseus
or articles in the 1911 Encyclopædia Britannica:
* Perseus (astronomy), constellation of the northern hemisphere
* Perseus (mythology), in Greek legend, son of Danaë and Zeus
* Perseus of Macedonia, born c. 212 B.C., the last king of Macedonia
# Perryman v. Woodward

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
238 U.S. 148
Perryman v. Woodward
Argued: and submitted May 12 and 13, 1915. --- Decided: June 14, 1915
Messrs. B. B. Blakeney and James H. Maxey for plaintiffs in error.
[Argument of Counsel from page 149 intentionally omitted]
Mr. Joseph C. Stone for defendant in error.
Mr. Justice Holmes delivered the opinion of the court:

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Persephone (Coates)

"The wild bird's first exultant strain"
* Coates, Florence Earle (1901),"Persephone" from Lippincott's Monthly Magazine (April 1901)
* Coates, Florence Earle (1904), "Persephone" in Mine and Thine (1904).
* Coates, Florence Earle (1916), "Persephone" in Poems II.

## Notes

* ↑ View this version at Google books
# Perry v. United States

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
294 U.S. 330
Perry v. United States
Argued: Jan. 10, 11, 1935. --- Decided: Feb 18, 1935
[Syllabus from pages 330-332 intentionally omitted]
Mr. John M. Perry, of New York City, for Perry.
[Argument of Counsel from pages 333-341 intentionally omitted]
Messrs. Homer S.C.ummings, Atty. Gen., and Angus D. MacLean, Asst. Sol. Gen., of Washington, D.C., for the United States.
[Argument of Counsel from pages 341-346 intentionally omitted]
Mr. Chief Justice HUGHES delivered the opinion of the Court.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Persephone

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Persephone."
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
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.
* Persephone, a poem by Florence Earle Coates (The wild bird's first exultant strain)
* Persephone, a poem by John Cowper Powys (At last!)
# Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect/Zunsheen in the Winter

ZUNSHEEN IN THE WINTER.
The winter clouds, that long did hide The zun, be all a-blown azide, An’ in the light, noo longer dim, Do sheen the ivy that do clim’ The tower’s zide an’ elem’s stim;  An’ holmen bushes, in between  The leafless thorns, be bright an’ green  To zunsheen o’ the winter.
The trees, that yesterday did twist In wind’s a-drevèn rain an’ mist, Do now drow sheädes out, long an’ still; But roarèn watervals do vill Their whirlèn pools below the hill,  Where, wi’ her païl upon the stile,  A-gwaïn a-milkèn Jeäne do smile  To zunsheen o’ the winter.
The birds do sheäke, wi’ plaÿsome skips, The raïn-drops off the bushes’ tips, A-chirripèn wi’ merry sound; While over all the grassy ground The wind’s a-whirlèn round an’ round  So softly, that the day do seem  Mwore lik’ a zummer in a dream,  Than zunsheen in the winter.
​The wold vo’k now do meet abrode, An’ tell o’ winter’s they’ve a-know’d; When snow wer long above the groun’, Or floods broke all the bridges down, Or wind unheal’d a half the town,—  The teäles o’ wold times long a-gone,  But ever dear to think upon,  The zunsheen o’ their winter.
Vor now to them noo brook can run, Noo hill can feäce the winter zun, Noo leaves can vall, noo flow’rs can feäde, Noo snow can hide the grasses bleäde, Noo vrost can whiten in the sheäde,  Noo day can come, but what do bring  To mind ageän their early spring,  That’s now a-turn’d to winter.
# Poems of Sentiment and Imagination

POEMS
OF
SENTIMENT AND IMAGINATION,
WITH
Dramatic and Descriptive Pieces.
BY
FRANCES A. AND METTA V. FULLER.
NEW YORK: A. S. BARNES & CO., PUBLISHERS, NO. 51 JOHN STREET. 1851.
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1850, by
A. S. BARNES & CO.,
in the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New York.
STEREOTYPED BY BANER AND PALMER, 201 William Street, corner of Frankfort, N. Y.
TO OUR DEAR MOTHER,
THIS,
Our First Volume,
IS
GRATEFULLY AND AFFECTIONATELY
Inscribed.
AUTHORS' PREFACE.
In ushering to the world of letters this book of thoughts and feelings, germed in the seclusion of a dreamy youth, the authors, it may be conceived, had not the fear of criticism in their minds, else, perhaps, polish and elaboration might have insured more finished compositions. Many of the poems now collected have before appeared through various literary mediums, and to alter or remodel is a distasteful as well as difficult task. It is easy even now to perceive the crudeness which it will require years of thought and experience to mould into a pure and elevated style; but for this work, it is asked of friends and critics, that, viewing it as the first fruit-offering of young hearts, they "with all its faults will love it still."
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 of Sentiment and Imagination/Autumn

AUTUMN.
# Poems of Sentiment and Imagination/A Reverie

A REVERIE.
Not from fancy's land of wonders Come the dreams that haunt my brain, But from out the past's dim chambers Glide anon the shadowy train. On each pale and solemn visage Is some old remembrance prest, Some old memory that hath lingered Ever fadeless in my breast.
And as troop on troop of visions Through thought's silent halls defile, Like the ancient ghosts that wander Through some lone cathedral aisle, New-born fancies mix and mingle With the old familiar throng, And the Past and Present meeting, Form the river-tide of song.
Dreams of present have no power, And no grandeur like the past; Glory borrows its enchantment From the distance it is cast; But the present is the wizard That can break oblivion's seal, And the "dead past's dead" unburied, By a magic word reveal.
Life has many hidden currents, Like the cave-streams of the earth, Flowing deep and strong in secret, Ne'er betraying bourne or birth; But the flood in darkness wandering With no flower upon its way, Has its course 'mong richer treasures Than have met the blaze of day.
​Light that sometimes shines upon it Finds it deep, and pure, and cold; And the starry gleam reflected, Leaves no bosom secret told. In my spirit's depths are hidden Treasures gathered from all life: Pearls of thought, and gold of feeling, Moveless with the current's strife.
In life's lively panorama, Looking for what is to be, We forget to note the present Ere the changing phantoms flee; But as clouds by tempests driven Scatter rain-drops as they fly, Many golden sands have fallen Where they must forever lie.
In my heart the silver treble Of these broken notes of song, Makes no discord in the music As it flows in waves along; For the spirit of my dreaming Sings me all the missing notes, And the strain to you so broken Perfect to my hearing floats.
# Poems of Sentiment and Imagination/Beauty

BEAUTY.
I have seen a gay, young, volatile creature, With a form graceful as Hebe's, and a smile Full of all winning witcheries; and features Blended to such pure symmetry, that while You strove to tell where most of beauty laid, The delicate whole mingled in one soft shade, With violet eyes, and drooping lids that looked ​Like a soft pearl-cloud on the summer sky, And fair, smooth brow where purity seemed booked Never to be erased; and lips that vie With the young rosebud, that ever and anon Parted with smiles and snatches of sweet song; And hair bright as a gold-edged cloud, that hung In rippled ringlets round the soft, white neck, And o'er the carmine of the young cheek flung A richer glow, such as tints from shadows take. A form all symmetry, with delicate feet, And pretty dimpled hands and rounded arms, And motions full of graces, such as meet To make perfection in one lovely form; And I did love her that she was to me The witching embodiment of poetry.
And I knew one of a less lovely face, With form less fairy-like and beautiful, With motions not so full of perfect grace, But whose chief charm was loveliness of soul! Yet she was beautiful; you should have seen The soft eye lighten, and the restless lip, Tremulous with lofty sentiment, and been A listener to the glowing thoughts that leap From the deep-welling fountains of her heart, And watched the play of feelings as they'd start, Bringing the eloquent blood to her fair brow, Deep'ning the color in her tell-tale eye, And blending her whole being in the glow That wraps her spirit in such ecstasy. Then had you known what 'tis to feel the charm Of all that's beautiful in our fair earth; For her mind fed on loveliness, nor form, Real nor spiritual, that has its birth, But was familiar to her delicate eye, Until her spirit became poetry! And her I loved for beauty that is given To make us less of earth and more of heaven.
# Poems of Sentiment and Imagination/A Letter

A LETTER.
I look upon the young moon in the sky, And my thoughts image thee! Have you forgot That which I told you in the sweet "lang syne," When I was young enough to dream of faith Kept for a lifetime sacred? Hollow dream! Ah, then I told you on a happy hour, On a night like to this, that while the moon Brightened and darkened to my living eyes, There was one image should rise when it rose, Shine as it shone, and should set darkly never! That was my heart's first vow. My lips had breathed Girlhood's "forget-me-not," and "ever-thine," ​To other ears before; but 'twas the strain The wind awakens passing o'er a lyre— The natural melody the young heart yields Even to love's lightest whisper. But there came At length a master, with the power to thrill The finest chord in all the spirit's being. Thou wert the master; and thy hand awoke All of the slumbering music in my soul— The strain whose echo lingers in my heart, Resounding through its labyrinths forever. But 'tis the echo only that remains; The strain is still forever, and the chords Of the soft lyre that thrilled so wildly then, Would break in shrinking from the very touch That once made such sweet singing. But 'tis past. I have been sad and happy many times Since we together have e'er wept or smiled; And my heart beats as ever was its wont— Slowly and pensively—save now and then, When the desire for love grows suddenly strong, And all the slumbering lava of the heart Pours itself through the channels of the blood, Making thought feverish, and the pulses high. But this was in my nature, and 'twas this Pining for love, and pride of intellect, That made thee seem so godlike in my eyes. But thou of all thy glory hast been shorn, And thy great gifts are nothing to the shame Of the mean sin of falsehood. I forget The selfish thought that thy deceit wronged me, In sorrow for the ruin that was wrought In the most perfect beauty of the soul, When the vail parted, and I saw untruth Wedded to bright-browed wisdom.
Let it pass! Or I shall make a lecture, which I meant not, For I began by talking of the moon. ​Ay, let it pass—it is a lesson more; And daily we learn something of the world Which it is well to know, though learning it We tread on thorns where we saw only roses, And find an ignis fatuus in a star.
# Poems of Sentiment and Imagination/A Scrap from My Portfolio

A SCRAP FROM MY PORTFOLIO.
Nay, uncurl thy lip of pride, Scorn not wholly human weakness; Thou shalt learn, when thou art tried, More of sin-forgiving meekness.
Is the world's condemning sneer Cast upon thy fellow-man? Bravely let thy smile, thy tear, Cheer to virtue if it can.
Does the frail one pass thee by With a bended brow of sadness— Frown not, in that heart now lie Thoughts that scorch the brain to madness.
Life is strong, and hearts are frail— In the struggle man may fall; But if aught from us avail, Shall we answer not the call?
Check thy spirit's wayward scorn, Wreathe thy lip with smiles of love, Bind the heart remorse hath torn, And let kindness virtue move.
​Feel no shame that thou hast been Gentle to the erring one, That the soul once dark with sin Fairer 'neath thy smile hath grown.