OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# A Midsummer Holiday and Other Poems/After a Reading

AFTER A READING.
For the seven times seventh time love would renew the
delight without end or alloy
That it takes in the praise as it takes in the presence of
eyes that fulfil it with joy;
But how shall it praise them and rest unrebuked by the
presence and pride of the boy?
Praise meet for a child is unmeet for an elder whose
winters and springs are nine:
What song may have strength in its wings to expand
them, or light in its eyes to shine,
That shall seem not as weakness and darkness if matched
with the theme I would fain make mine?
The round little flower of a face that exults in the sun- shine of shadowless days
Defies the delight it enkindles to sing of it aught not
unfit for the praise
Of the sweetest of all things that eyes may rejoice in and
tremble with love as they gaze.
Such tricks and such meanings abound on the lips and
the brows that are brighter than light, The demure little chin, the sedate little nose, and the
forehead of sun-stained white,
That love overflows into laughter and laughter subsides
into love at the sight.
Each limb and each feature has action in tune with the
meaning that smiles as it speaks
From the fervour of eyes and the fluttering of hands in a
foretaste of fancies and freaks,
When the thought of them deepens the dimples that
laugh in the corners and curves of his cheeks.
As a bird when the music within her is yet too intense to
be spoken in song,
That pauses a little for pleasure to feel how the notes
from withinwards throng,
So pauses the laugh at his lips for a little, and waxes
within more strong.
As the music elate and triumphal that bids all things of
the dawn bear part
With the tune that prevails when her passion has risen
into rapture of passionate art, So lightens the laughter made perfect that leaps from its
nest in the heaven of his heart.
Deep, grave and sedate is the gaze of expectant intensity
bent for awhile
And absorbed on its aim as the tale that enthralls him
uncovers the weft of its wile,
Till the goal of attention is touched, and expectancy
kisses delight in a smile.
And it seems to us here that in Paradise hardly the spirit
of Lamb or of Blake May hear or behold aught sweeter than lightens and rings
when his bright thoughts break
In laughter that well might lure them to look, and to
smile as of old for his sake.
O singers that best loved children, and best for their
sakes are beloved of us here,
In the world of your life everlasting, where love has no
thorn and desire has no fear,
All else may be sweeter than aught is on earth, nought
dearer than these are dear.
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# A Midsummer Holiday and Other Poems/Cradle Songs

CRADLE SONGS.
(To a tune of Blake's.)
I.
Sleep can steal from sight
Little of your light:
Soft as fire in dew,
Still the life in you
Lights your slumber through.
Four white eyelids keep
Fast the seal of sleep
Deep as love is deep:
Yet, though closed it lies, Love behind them spies
Heaven in two blue eyes.
II.
Earth and heaven are near
Now, for heaven is here.
Heaven is every place
Where your flower-sweet face
Fills our eyes with grace.
Till your own eyes deign
Earth a glance again,
Earth and heaven are twain.
Now your sleep is done,
Shine, and show the sun
Earth and heaven are one.
III.
Love's own lips are meet
Scarce to kiss your feet.
Hardly love's own ear,
When your laugh crows clear,
Quite deserves to hear.
Hardly love's own wile,
Though it please awhile,
Quite deserves your smile.
Baby full of grace, Bless us yet a space:
Sleep will come apace.
IV.
Man, whate'er he do,
May deceive not you.
Smiles whose love is guile,
Worn a flattering while,
Win from you no smile.
One, the smile alone
Out of love's heart grown,
Ever wins your own.
Man, a dunce uncouth, Errs in age and youth:
Babies know the truth.
V.
Love is fain to dare
Bless your haughtiest air.
Baby blithe and bland,
Reach but forth a hand
None may dare withstand;
Love, though wellnigh cowed,
Yet would praise aloud
Pride so sweetly proud.
No! the fitting word Even from breeze or bird
Never yet was heard.
VI.
Though no word we find,
Bear us yet in mind.
Half a little hour,
Baby bright in bower,
Keep this thought aflower—
Love it is, I see,
Here with heart and knee
Bows and worships me.
What can baby do, Then, for love so true?—
Let it worship you.
VII.
Love's divine surmise
Lights your constant eyes.
Day and night and day
One mute word would they,
As the soul saith, say.
Trouble comes and goes;
Wonder ebbs and flows;
Love remains and glows.   As the fledgeling dove Feels the breast above,
So your heart feels love.
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# A Midsummer Holiday and Other Poems/In Sepulcretis

These Sonnets refer to the publication of the Letters of John Keats to Fanny Brawne. 'Foreman of the flock' is Harry Buxton Forman. Previously printed, under the tentative title "Post Mortem", in The Fortnightly Review, January 1884, pp. 65-66.
IN SEPULCRETIS.
'Vidistis ipso rapere de rogo cœnam.'—Catullus, LIX. 3.
'To publish even one line of an author which he himself has not intended for the public at large—especially letters which are addressed to private persons—is to commit a despicable act of felony.'—Heine.
i.
The best gifts given of man to man should feel,
Alive, a snake's head ever at their heel:
Small hurt the worms may do them while they live—
Such hurt as scorn for scorn's sake may forgive.
But now, when death and fame have set one seal
On tombs whereat Love, Grief, and Glory kneel,
Men sift all secrets, in their critic sieve,
Of graves wherein the dust of death might shrink
To know what tongues defile the dead man's name With loathsome love, and praise that stings like shame.
Rest once was theirs, who had crossed the mortal brink:
No rest, no reverence now: dull fools undress
Death's holiest shrine, life's veriest nakedness.
ii.
Men scorned him living: let us praise him dead.
His life was brief and bitter, gently led
And proudly, but with pure and blameless pride.
He wrought no wrong toward any; satisfied
With love and labour, whence our souls are fed With largesse yet of living wine and bread.
Come, let us praise him: here is nought to hide.
Make bare the poor dead secrets of his heart,
Strip the stark-naked soul, that all may peer,
Spy, smirk, sniff, snap, snort, snivel, snarl, and sneer:
Let none so sad, let none so sacred part
Lie still for pity, rest unstirred for shame,
But all be scanned of all men. This is fame.
iii.
If one, that strutted up the brawling streets As foreman of the flock whose concourse greets
Men's ears with bray more dissonant than brass,
Would change from blame to praise as coarse and crass
His natural note, and learn the fawning feats
Of lapdogs, who but knows what luck he meets?
But all in vain old fable holds her glass.
Mocked and reviled by men of poisonous breath,
A great man dies: but one thing worst was spared;
Not all his heart by their base hands lay bared. One comes to crown with praise the dust of death; And lo, through him this worst is brought to pass.
Now, what a thing it is to be an ass!
iv.
On heads more shameful, fall on theirs through whom
Dead men may keep inviolate not their tomb,
But all its depths these ravenous grave-worms choke.
And yet what waste of wrath were this, to invoke
Shame on the shameless? Even their twin-born doom,
Their native air of life, a carrion fume,
Their natural breath of love, a noisome smoke, The bread they break, the cup whereof they drink,
The record whose remembrance damns their name,
Smells, tastes, and sounds of nothing but of shame.
If thankfulness nor pity bids them think
What work is this of theirs, and pause betimes,
Not Shakespeare's grave would scare them off with rhymes.
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# A Midsummer Holiday and Other Poems/Clear the Way!

Previously printed in The Pall Mall Gazette, August 19th, 1884, p. 4.
CLEAR THE WAY!
Clear the way, my lords and lackeys! you have had your day.
Here you have your answer—England's yea against your nay:
Long enough your house has held you: up, and clear the way!
Lust and falsehood, craft and traffic, precedent and gold,
Tongue of courtier, kiss of harlot, promise bought and sold,
Gave you heritage of empire over thralls of old.
Now that all these things are rotten, all their gold is rust,
Quenched the pride they lived by, dead the faith and cold the lust,
Shall their heritage not also turn again to dust?
By the grace of these they reigned, who left their sons their sway: By the grace of these, what England says her lords unsay:
Till at last her cry go forth against them—Clear the way!
By the grace of trust in treason knaves have lived and lied:
By the force of fear and folly fools have fed their pride:
By the strength of sloth and custom reason stands defied.
Lest perchance your reckoning on some latter day be worse,
Halt and hearken, lords of land and princes of the purse,
Ere the tide be full that comes with blessing and with curse.
Where we stand, as where you sit, scarce falls a sprinkling spray;
But the wind that swells, the wave that follows, none shall stay: Spread no more of sail for shipwreck: out, and clear the way!
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# A Midsummer Holiday and Other Poems/Heartsease Country

HEARTSEASE COUNTRY.
to isabel swinburne.
The far green westward heavens are bland,
The far green Wiltshire downs are clear
As these deep meadows hard at hand:
The sight knows hardly far from near,
Nor morning joy from evening cheer.
In cottage garden-plots their bees
Find many a fervent flower to seize
And strain and drain the heart away
From ripe sweet-williams and sweet-peas
At every turn on every way.
But gladliest seems one flower to expand Its whole sweet heart all round us here;
'Tis Heartsease Country, Pansy Land.
Nor sounds nor savours harsh and drear
Where engines yell and halt and veer
Can vex the sense of him who sees
One flower-plot midway, that for trees
Has poles, and sheds all grimed or grey
For bowers like those that take the breeze
At every turn on every way.
Content even there they smile and stand,
Sweet thought's heart-easing flowers, nor fear,
With reek and roaring steam though fanned,
Nor shrink nor perish as they peer.
The heart's eye holds not those more dear
That glow between the lanes and leas
Where'er the homeliest hand may please
To bid them blossom as they may
Where light approves and wind agrees
At every turn on every way.
Sister, the word of winds and seas
Endures not as the word of these
Your wayside flowers whose breath would say
How hearts that love may find heart's ease
At every turn on every way.
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# A Midsummer Holiday and Other Poems/In Memory of Henry A. Bright

IN MEMORY OF HENRY A. BRIGHT.
Yet again another, ere his crowning year,
Gone from friends that here may look for him no more.
Never now for him shall hope set wide the door,
Hope that hailed him hither, fain to greet him here.
All the gracious garden-flowers he held so dear,
Oldworld English blossoms, all his homestead store,
Oldworld grief had strewn them round his bier of yore,
Bidding each drop leaf by leaf as tear by tear;
Rarer lutes than mine had borne more tuneful token,
Touched by subtler hands than echoing time can wrong, Sweet as flowers had strewn his graveward path along.
Now may no such old sweet dirges more be spoken,
Now the flowers whose breath was very song are broken,
Nor may sorrow find again so sweet a song.
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# A Dictionary of the Booksellers and Printers who Were at Work in England, Scotland and Ireland from 1641 to 1667/London (William)

​LONDON (WILLIAM), bookseller at Newcastle upon Tyne, Bridge Foot, 1653-60. Chiefly remembered for his Catalogue of the most vendible books in England, published first in 1657, with a supplement down to June 1st, 1658, and a further supplement in 1660 down to Easter term of that year, issued under the title, A Catalogue of New Books By Way of Supplement to the Former. Being such as have been Printed from that time till Easter Term. 1660. In this he held out the expectation of another issue of the ​catalogue in the following year, but nothing is known of any further supplement. In this catalogue the books were arranged in classes, Divinity coming first, and being followed by History, Physick, etc. In each class the works were arranged alphabetically under the authors. This catalogue has been absurdly attributed to William Juxon, Bishop of London, and later to Thomas Guy the bookseller. [Growoll (A.), English Booktrade Bibliography, p. 48.] London also printed several books against the Quakers, which were printed for him by Stephen Bulkley at York.
# A Dictionary of the Booksellers and Printers who Were at Work in England, Scotland and Ireland from 1641 to 1667/Lock (T.)

​LOCK (T.), printer (?) in London; Sea-cole Lane. 1655-60. Printer for the Rosicrucians. [Gray's Index to Hazlitt, p. 458; Ames' Collection of Title-pages, No. 2862.]
# A Dictionary of the Booksellers and Printers who Were at Work in England, Scotland and Ireland from 1641 to 1667/Mabb (Thomas)

​MABB (THOMAS), printer in London, (1) Ivy Lane; (2) St. Pauls Wharf, next doore to the signe of the Ship [neer the Thames], 1650-65. Thomas Mabb is first found in partnership with A. Coles, the earliest book in which their joint imprint is found being Alexander Ross's translation from John __PAGESEPARATOR__​Wallebius, entitled The Abridgment of Christian Divinitie, an octavo printed in 1650. Their office was furnished with a large assortment of type in all sizes, which will bear favourable comparison with that in use in other London printing offices at that time. The partnership appears to have been dissolved some time after August 12th in the following year, and Thomas Mabb is afterwards found printing alone. He was employed by many of the London booksellers, amongst others Henry Atkinson, J. Playfere, W. Sheares, J. Starkey, E. Thomas, and M. Young. In 1663 he is found printing books in conjunction with Richard Hodgkinson. Thomas Mabb was one of the chief witnesses against his brother printer, John Twyn, of Cloth Fair, who was executed at Tyburn for printing a book against the Government, and he afterwards printed an official account of the trial. Amongst other books that came from his press may be noticed Richard Kilburne's Brief Survey of the County of Kent, 1657; R. Fletcher's translation of Martials Epigrams, 1656; Jo. V. Belcamp's Consilium & Votum Pro Ordinanda & Stabilienda Hibernia, 1651, a folio of 38 pages, containing proposals for the settlement of Ireland in the interests of the Adventurers; and John Tatham's London Tryumphs, 1658 and 1661, being the author's account of the pageant in connection with the Lord Mayor's annual procession. Mabb probably fell a victim to the Plague of 1665, as no more is heard of him after that date.
# A Dictionary of the Booksellers and Printers who Were at Work in England, Scotland and Ireland from 1641 to 1667/Lowndes (Richard)

​LOWNDES (RICHARD), bookseller in London, (1) Adjoyning to Ludgate [on Ludgate Hill]; (2) White Lyon in St. Paul's Churchyard; (3) White Lyon, Duck Lane near West Smithfield. [Arber, Term Catalogues, i. 557.] 1640-75. Took up his freedom September 26th, 1639 [Arber, iii. 688.] Dealt in miscellaneous literature. Amongst his publications was Francis Quarles' Barnabas and Boanerges. 1644.
# A Dictionary of the Booksellers and Printers who Were at Work in England, Scotland and Ireland from 1641 to 1667/Lunne (Robert)

​LUNNE (ROBERT), bookseller in London; Next the Old Crane, Lambeth Hill [at the end of old Fish Street], 1641-6. Took up his freedom June 15th, 1627. [Arber, iii. 686.] Publisher of George Chapman's play, Bussy D'Amboise, 1641, 1646.
# A Dictionary of the Booksellers and Printers who Were at Work in England, Scotland and Ireland from 1641 to 1667/Mabb (Ralph)

​MABB (RALPH), bookseller in London; Greyhound St. Paul's Churchyard, 1610-42. Son of John Mabb, goldsmith of London. Apprentice to William Leake for eight years from Christmas, 1603. Took up his freedom January 16th, 1610. [Arber, ii. 269; iii. 683.] Amongst his publications may be mentioned the first edition of John Gwillim's Display of Heraldrie, and a play called The Spanish Bawd, by James Mabbe.
# A Dictionary of the Booksellers and Printers who Were at Work in England, Scotland and Ireland from 1641 to 1667/Macocke (John)

​MACOCKE (JOHN), printer in London; Addle or Addling Hill [Thames Street], 1645-92. First entry in the Registers April 5th, 1645. In 1660 he was appointed printer to the Parliament in conjunction with John Streator, and also held the post of printer to the House of Lords with Francis Tyton. He was associated with T. Newcombe in printing Mercurius Publicus and the Parliamentary Intelligencer. In 1664 he was in trouble for printing law books. [P.R.O. Chan. Proc. before 1714, Reynardson, B. 31, Stationers' Company v. Flesher.] On June 4th, 1666, he commenced a news-sheet called the Current Intelligence. When the survey of the press was made in 1668 he was found to have three presses, three apprentices and ten workmen; it was, in fact, one of the largest printing houses in London. Macocke was Master of the Stationers' Company in 1680, to which at his death he left a silver cup. [Timperley, p. 575.]
# A Dictionary of the Booksellers and Printers who Were at Work in England, Scotland and Ireland from 1641 to 1667/Magnes (James)

​MAGNES (JAMES), bookseller in London; Russell Street near the Piazza in Covent Garden, 1660-79. Publisher of plays and novels, succeeded in 1679 by M. Magnes, probably his widow. [Arber, Term Catalogues, i. p. 557.]
# A Dictionary of the Booksellers and Printers who Were at Work in England, Scotland and Ireland from 1641 to 1667/Lloyd (Lodowicke)

​LLOYD (LODOWICKE), bookseller in London, (1) Next to the Castle Tavern in Cornhill; (2) The Castle in Cornhill, 1655-74. Presumably a son of Llodowicke Lloyd the poet. He is first met with as a bookseller in partnership with Henry Cripps, of Pope's Head Alley, in the publication of Henry Vaughan the Silurist's Silex Scintillans or Sacred Poems in 1655. They were also associated in other ventures. Amongst Lloyd's other publications may be mentioned the Poems of Matthew Stevenson issued in 1665, and the works of Jacob Boehme. Catalogues of books printed for him will be found at the end of John Norton's Abel being Dead yet speaketh, 1658. [E. 937 (6)]; and Samuel Pordage's Mundorum Explicatio, 1661. [B.M. 1077, d. 35.] Lloyd's name appears in the Term Catalogues for the last time in Easter, 1674. [Arber, T.C., i. 175.] His address is somewhat of a puzzle. In the same book it will be found in the two forms given above, one on the title-page and the other on the "Catalogue of Books" at the end. Humphrey Blunden, q.v, also gave his address as the Castle in Cornhill.
# A Dictionary of the Booksellers and Printers who Were at Work in England, Scotland and Ireland from 1641 to 1667/Luggar, or Luggard (William)

​LUGGAR, or LUGGARD (WILLIAM), bookseller in London. (1) Blind Knight, Holborn; (2) Upon Holborn Bridge; (3) Postern by the Tower. 1599-1658. Apprentice with Henry Carr. Took up his freedom July 21st, 1597. Publisher of mathematical and nautical books. In partnership with William Fisher, q.v. Died in 1658. [Smyth's Obituary, p. 47.]
# A Course in Miracles/Workbook for Students/Review of Lessons 1 - 5

LESSON 51
The review for today covers the following ideas:
Nothing I see means anything.
The reason this is so is that I see nothing, and nothing has no meaning. It is necessary that I recognize this, that I may learn to see. What I think I see now is taking the place of vision. I must let it go by realizing it has no meaning, so that vision may take its place.
I have given what I see all the meaning it has for me.
I have judged everything I look upon, and it is this and only this I see. This is not vision. It is merely an illusion of reality, because my judgments have been made quite apart from reality. I am willing to recognize the lack of validity in my judgments, because I want to see. My judgments have hurt me, and I do not want to see according to them.
I do not understand anything I see.
How could I understand what I see when I have judged it amiss? What I see is the projection of my own errors of thought. I do not understand what I see because it is not understandable. There is no sense in trying to understand it. But there is every reason to let it go, and make room for what can be seen and understood and loved. I can exchange what I see now for this merely by being willing to do so. Is not this a better choice than the one I made before?
These thoughts do not mean anything.
The thoughts of which I am aware do not mean anything because I am trying to think without God. What I call "my" thoughts are not my real thoughts. My real thoughts are the thoughts I think with God. I am not aware of them because I have made my thoughts to take their place. I am willing to recognize that my thoughts do not mean anything, and to let them go. I choose to have them be replaced by what they were intended to replace. My thoughts are meaningless, but all creation lies in the thoughts I think with God.
I am never upset for the reason I think.
I am never upset for the reason I think because I am constantly trying to justify my thoughts. I am constantly trying to make them true. I make all things my enemies, so that my anger is justified and my attacks are warranted. I have not realized how much I have misused everything I see by assigning this role to it. I have done this to defend a thought system that has hurt me, and that I no longer want. I am willing to let it go.
# A Course in Miracles/Workbook for Students/Review of Lessons 46 - 50

LESSON 60
These ideas are for today's review:
God is the Love in which I forgive.
God does not forgive because He has never condemned. The blameless cannot blame, and those who have accepted their innocence see nothing to forgive. Yet forgiveness is the means by which I will recognize my innocence. It is the reflection of God's Love on earth. It will bring me near enough to Heaven that the Love of God can reach down to me and raise me up to Him.
God is the strength in which I trust.
It is not my own strength through which I forgive. It is through the strength of God in me, which I am remembering as I forgive. As I begin to see, I recognize His reflection on earth. I forgive all things because I feel the stirring of His strength in me. And I begin to remember the Love I chose to forget, but which has not forgotten me.
There is nothing to fear.
How safe the world will look to me when I can see it! It will not look anything like what I imagine I see now. Everyone and everything I see will lean toward me to bless me. I will recognize in everyone my dearest Friend. What could there be to fear in a world that I have forgiven, and that has forgiven me?
God's Voice speaks to me all through the day.
There is not a moment in which God's Voice ceases to call on my forgiveness to save me. There is not a moment in which His Voice fails to direct my thoughts, guide my actions and lead my feet. I am walking steadily on toward truth. There is nowhere else I can go, because God's Voice is the only Voice and the only Guide that has been given to His Son.
I am sustained by the Love of God.
As I listen to God's Voice, I am sustained by His Love. As I open my eyes, His Love lights up the world for me to see. As I forgive, His Love reminds me that His Son is sinless. And as I look upon the world with the vision He has given me, I remember that I am His Son.