OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Poems of Passion/Red Carnations

One time in Arcadie's fair bowers  There met a bright immortal band, To choose their emblems from the flowers  That made an Eden of that land.
Sweet Constancy, with eyes of hope,  Strayed down the garden path alone And gathered sprays of heliotrope,  To place in clusters at her zone.
True Friendship plucked the ivy green,  Forever fresh, forever fair. Inconstancy with flippant mien  The fading primrose chose to wear.
One moment Love the rose paused by;  But Beauty picked it for her hair. Love paced the garden with a sigh  He found no fitting emblem there.
Then suddenly he saw a flame,  A conflagration turned to bloom; It even put the rose to shame,  Both in its beauty and perfume.
He watched it, and it did not fade;  He plucked it, and it brighter grew. In cold or heat, all undismayed,  It kept its fragrance and its hue.
"Here deathless love and passion sleep,"  He cried, "embodied in this flower. This is the emblem I will keep."  Love wore carnations from that hour.
# Poems of Passion/Resolve

Build on resolve, and not upon regret,  The structure of thy future. Do not grope Among the shadows of old sins, but let  Thine own soul's light shine on the path of hope And dissipate the darkness. Waste no tears Upon the blotted record of lost years, But turn the leaf and smile, oh, smile, to see The fair white pages that remain for thee.
Prate not of thy repentance. But believe  The spark divine dwells in thee: let it grow. That which the upreaching spirit can achieve  The grand and all-creative forces know; They will assist and strengthen as the light Lifts up the acorn to the oak tree's height. Thou hast but to resolve, and lo! God's whole Great universe shall fortify thy soul.
# Poems of Passion/Reunited

Let us begin, dear love, where we left off;  Tie up the broken threads of that old dream,  And go on happy as before, and seem Lovers again, though all the world may scoff.
Let us forget the graves which lie between  Our parting and our meeting, and the tears  That rusted out the gold-work of the years, The frosts that fell upon our gardens green.
Let us forget the cold, malicious Fate  Who made our loving hearts her idle toys,  And once more revel in the old sweet joys Of happy love. Nay, it is not too late!
Forget the deep-ploughed furrows in my brow;  Forget the silver gleaming in my hair;  Look only in my eyes! Oh! darling, there The old love shone no warmer then than now.
Down in the tender deeps of thy dear eyes  I find the lost sweet memory of my youth,  Bright with the holy radiance of thy truth, And hallowed with the blue of summer skies.
Tie up the broken threads and let us go,  Like reunited lovers, hand in hand,  Back, and yet onward, to the sunny land Of our To Be, which was our Long Ago.
# Poems of Passion/Show Me the Way

Show me the way that leads to the true life.  I do not care what tempests may assail me, I shall be given courage for the strife;  I know my strength will not desert or fail me; I know that I shall conquer in the fray:  Show me the way.
Show me the way up to a higher plane,  Where body shall be servant to the soul. I do not care what tides of woe or pain  Across my life their angry waves may roll, If I but reach the end I seek, some day:  Show me the way.
Show me the way, and let me bravely climb  Above vain grievings for unworthy treasures; Above all sorrow that finds balm in time;  Above small triumphs or belittling pleasures; Up to those heights where these things seem child's-play:  Show me the way.
Show me the way to that calm, perfect peace  Which springs from an inward consciousness of right; To where all conflicts with the flesh shall cease,  And self shall radiate with the spirit's light. Though hard the journey and the strife, I pray,  Show me the way.
# Poems of Passion/Queries

Well, how has it been with you since we met  That last strange time of a hundred times? When we met to swear that we could forget—  I your caresses, and you my rhymes— The rhyme of my lays that rang like a bell, And the rhyme of my heart with yours, as well?
How has it been since we drank that last kiss,  That was bitter with lees of the wasted wine, When the tattered remains of a threadbare bliss,  And the worn-out shreds of a joy divine, With a year's best dreams and hopes, were cast Into the rag-bag of the Past?
Since Time, the rag-buyer, hurried away,  With a chuckle of glee at a bargain made, Did you discover, like me, one day,  That, hid in the folds of those garments frayed, Were priceless jewels and diadems— The soul's best treasures, the heart's best gems?
Have you, too, found that you could not supply  The place of those jewels so rare and chaste? Do all that you borrow or beg or buy  Prove to be nothing but skilful paste? Have you found pleasure, as I found art, Not all-sufficient to fill your heart?
Do you sometimes sigh for the tattered shreds  Of the old delight that we cast away, And find no worth in the silken threads  Of newer fabrics we wear to-day? Have you thought the bitter of that last kiss Better than sweets of a later bliss?
What idle queries!—or yes or no—  Whatever your answer, I understand That there is no pathway by which we can go  Back to the dead past's wonderland; And the gems he purchased from me, from you, There is no rebuying from Time, the Jew.
# Poems of Passion/Regret

There is a haunting phantom called Regret,  A shadowy creature robed somewhat like Woe,  But fairer in the face, whom all men know By her sad mien and eyes forever wet. No heart would seek her; but once having met,  All take her by the hand, and to and fro  They wander through those paths of long ago— Those hallowed ways 'twere wiser to forget.
One day she led me to that lost land's gate  And bade me enter; but I answered "No! I will pass on with my bold comrade, Fate;  I have no tears to waste on thee—no time;  My strength I hoard for heights I hope to climb: No friend art thou for souls that would be great."
# Poems of Passion/Progress

Let there be many windows to your soul, That all the glory of the universe May beautify it. Not the narrow pane Of one poor creed can catch the radiant rays That shine from countless sources. Tear away The blinds of superstition; let the light Pour through fair windows broad as Truth itself And high as God.
Why should the spirit peer Through some priest-curtained orifice, and grope Along dim corridors of doubt, when all The splendor from unfathomed seas of space Might bathe it with the golden waves of Love? Sweep up the debris of decaying faiths; Sweep down the cobwebs of worn-out beliefs, And throw your soul wide open to the light Of Reason and of Knowledge. Tune your ear To all the wordless music of the stars And to the voice of Nature, and your heart Shall turn to truth and goodness as the plant Turns to the sun. A thousand unseen hands Reach down to help you to their peace-crowned heights. And all the forces of the firmament Shall fortify your strength. Be not afraid To thrust aside half-truths and grasp the whole.
# Poems of Passion/Response

I said this morning, as I leaned and threw My shutters open to the Spring's surprise, "Tell me, O Earth, how is it that in you Year after year the same fresh feelings rise? How do you keep your young exultant glee? No more those sweet emotions come to me.
"I note through all your fissures how the tide Of healthful life goes leaping as of old; Your royal dawns retain their pomp and pride; Your sunsets lose no atom of their gold. How can this wonder be?" My soul's fine ear Leaned, listening, till a small voice answered near:
"My days lapse never over into night; My nights encroach not on the rights of dawn. I rush not breathless after some delight; I waste no grief for any pleasure gone. My July noons burn not the entire year. Heart, hearken well!" "Yes, yes; go on; I hear."
"I do not strive to make my sunsets' gold Pave all the dim and distant realms of space. I do not bid my crimson dawns unfold To lend the midnight a fictitious grace. I break no law, for all God's laws are good. Heart, hast thou heard?" "Yes, yes; and understood."
# Poems of Patriotism/Mothers and Wives

Mothers and Wives
Mothers and wives, ’tis the call to arms That the bugler yonder prepares to sound; We stand on the brink of war’s alarms And your men may lie on a bloodstained ground.
The drums may play and the flags may fly, And our boys may don the brown and blue, And the call that summons brave men to die Is the call for glorious women, too.
Mothers and wives, if the summons comes, You, as ever since war has been, Must hear with courage the rolling drums And dry your tears when the flags are seen.
For never has hero fought and died Who has braver been than the mother, who Buckled his saber at his side, And sent him forward to dare and do.
Mothers and wives, should the call ring out, It is you must answer your country’s cry; You must furnish brave hearts and stout For the firing line where the heroes die.
And never a corpse on the field of strife Should be honored more in his country’s sight
Than the noble mother or noble wife Who sent him forth in the cause of right.
Mothers and wives, ’tis the call for men To give their strength and to give their lives; But well we know, such a summons then Is the call for mothers and loyal wives.
For you must give us the strength we need, You must give us the boys in blue, For never a boy or a man shall bleed But a mother or wife shall suffer, too.
# Poems of Patriotism/See It Through

See It Through
There are many to cheer when the battle begins, There are many to shout for the right; There are many to rail at the world and its sins, But few have the grit for the fight. There are thousands to start with a rush for the fray When the fighting seems easy to do, But when danger is present and rough is the way, The few have to see the job through.
It is easy to quit with a battle unwon, It is hard to press on to success; It is easy to stop with a purpose undone, It is hard to encounter distress. And many will march when the roadway is clear And the glorious goal is in view, But the many, too often, when dangers appear, Aren’t willing to see the fight through.
They weaken in spirit when trials grow great, They flinch at the clashing of steel; They talk of the strength of the foe at the gate And whine at the hurts that they feel. They begin to regret having ventured for right, They sigh that they dared to be true, They haven’t the heart they once had for the fight, They don’t want to see the job through.
We have set out to battle for justice and truth, We have fearful disasters to meet; We shall weep for the best of our manliest youth, We shall suffer the pangs of defeat. But let us stand firm for the cause that we plead, Let the many be brave with the few; The cry of the quitter let none of us heed Till we’ve done what we started to do.
# Poems of Patriotism/The Alarm

The Alarm
Get off your downy cots of ease, There’s work that must be done. Great danger’s riding on the seas, The storm is coming on. Don’t think that it will quickly pass. Who smiles at distant fate And waits until it strikes, alas! Has roused himself too late.
Who thinks the fight will end before The need of him arrives, Is lengthening this brutal war And costing many lives. For over us that storm shall break Ere many weeks have fled, And we shall pay for our mistake In fields of mangled dead.
Be ready when the foe shall near, Be there to strike him hard; Let us, though he be miles from here, Be standing now on guard.
Tomorrow’s victories won’t be won By pluck that we display Tomorrow when the foe comes on, But by our work today.
# Poems of Patriotism/Out of It All

Out of It All
Out of it all shall come splendor and gladness, Out of the madness and out of the sadness, Clearer and finer the world shall arise. Why then keep sorrow and doubt in your eyes?
Joy shall be ours when the warfare is over; Children shall gleefully romp in the clover; Here with our heroes at home and at rest, We shall rejoice with the world at its best.
Not in vain, not in vain, is our bright banner flying; Not for naught are the sons of our fond mothers dying; The gloom and despair are not ever to last; The world shall be better when they shall have passed.
So mourn not his absence, but smile and be brave; You shall have him again from the brink of the grave
In a wonderful world ’neath a wonderful sun; He shall come to your arms with his victory won.
# Poems of Patriotism/Reflection

Reflection
You have given me riches and ease, You have given me joys through the years, I have sat in the shade of your trees, With the song of your birds in my ears. I have drunk of your bountiful wine And done as I’ve chosen to do, But, oh, wonderful country of mine, How little have I done for you!
You have given me safe harbor from harm, Untroubled I’ve slept through the nights And have waked to the new morning’s charm And claimed as my own its delights. I have taken the finest of fine From your orchards and fields where it grew, But, oh, wonderful country of mine, How little I’ve given to you!
You have given me a home and a place Where in safety my babies may play; Health blooms on each bright dimpled face And laughter is theirs every day.
You have guarded from danger the shrine Where I worship when toiling is through, But, oh, wonderful country of mine, How little have I done for you!
I have taken your gifts without thought, I have reveled in joys that you gave, That I see now with blood had been bought, The blood of your earlier braves. I have lived without making one sign That the source of my riches I knew, Now, oh, wonderful country of mine, I’m here to do something for you!
# Poems of Patriotism/Show the Flag

Show the Flag
Show the flag and let it wave As a symbol of the brave; Let it float upon the breeze As a sign for each who sees That beneath it, where it rides, Loyalty today abides.
Show the flag and signify That it wasn’t born to die;
Let its colors speak for you That you still are standing true, True in sight of God and man To the work that flag began.
Show the flag that all may see That you serve humanity. Let it whisper to the breeze That comes singing through the trees That whatever storms descend You’ll be faithful to the end.
Show the flag and let it fly, Cheering every passer-by— Men that may have stepped aside, May have lost their old-time pride, May behold it there, and then Consecrate themselves again.
Show the flag! The day is gone When men blindly hurry on Serving only gods of gold; Now the spirit that was cold Warms again to courage fine. Show the flag and fall in line!
# Poems of Patriotism/Soldierly

Soldierly
The glory of a soldier—and a soldier’s not a saint— Is the way he does his duty without grumbling or complaint; His work’s not always pleasant, but he does it rain or shine, An’ he grabs a bit of glory when he’s fighting in the line; But the lesson that he teaches every day to me an’ you Is the way to do a duty that we do not like to do.
Any sort o’ chap can whistle when his work is mostly fun; A hundred want the pleasant jobs to every sturdy one That’ll grab the dreary duty an’ the mean an’ lowly task, Or the drab an’ cheerless service that life often has to ask; But somebody has to do it, an’ the test of me an’ you Is the way we face the labor that we do not like to do.
Now, it isn’t very pleasant standin’ guard out in the rain, But it’s in the line of duty, an’ no soldier will complain, An’ there isn’t any soldier but what sometimes hates his work When the dress parade is over, an’ perhaps he’d like to shirk, But he’s there to follow orders, not to pick an’ choose his post, An’ he sometimes shines the finest at the job he hates the most.
Let’s be soldiers in the struggle, let’s be loyal through and through; Life is going to give us duties that perhaps we’ll hate to do. There’ll be little sacrifices that we will not like to make, There’ll be many tasks unpleasant that will fall to us to take. An’ although we all would rather do the work that brings applause, Let’s forget our whims an’ fancies an’ just labor for the cause.
# Poems of Patriotism/Prophecy

Prophecy
We shall thank our God for graces That we’ve never known before; We shall look on manlier faces When our troubled days are o’er. We shall rise a better nation From the battle’s grief and grime, And shall win our soul’s salvation In this bitter trial time. And the old flag waving o’er us In the dancing morning sun Will be daily singing for us Of a splendor new begun.
When the rifles cease to rattle And the cannon cease to roar, When is passed the smoke of battle And the death lists are no more, With a yet undreamed-of beauty As a people we shall rise, And a love of right and duty Shall be gleaming in our eyes. As a country, tried by sorrow, With a heritage of worth, We shall stand in that tomorrow With the leaders of the earth.
# Poems of Patriotism/Runner McGee

Runner McGee (Who had “Return if Possible” orders)
“You’ve heard a good deal of the telephone wires,” he said as we sat at our ease, And talked of the struggle that’s taking men’s lives in these terrible days o’er the seas, “But I’ve been through the thick of the thing and I know when a battle’s begun, It isn’t the phone you depend on for help. It’s the legs of a boy who can run.
“It isn’t because of the phone that I’m here. Today you are talking to me Because of the grit and the pluck of a boy. His title was Runner McGee.
We were up to our dead line an’ fighting alone; some plan had miscarried, I guess, An’ the help we were promised had failed to arrive. We were showing all signs of distress.
“Our curtain of fire was ahead of us still, an’ theirs was behind us an’ thick, An’ there wasn’t a thing we could do for ourselves—the few of us left had to stick. You haven’t much chance to get Central an’ talk on the phone to the music of guns; Gettin’ word to the chief is a matter right then that is up to the fellow who runs.
“I’d sent four of ’em back with the R. I. P. sign, which means to return if you can, But none of ’em got through the curtain of fire; my hurry call died with the man. Then Runner McGee said he’d try to get through. I hated to order the kid On his mission of death; thought he’d never get by, but somehow or other he did.
“Yes, he’s dead. Died an hour after bringing us word that the chief was aware of our plight, An’ for us to hang on to the ditch that we held; the reserves would relieve us at night. Then we stuck to our trench an’ we stuck to our guns; you know how you’ll fight when you know That new strength is coming to fill up the gaps. There’s heart in the force of your blow.
“It wasn’t till later I got all the facts. They wanted McGee to remain. They begged him to stay. He had cheated death once an’ was foolish to try it again. ‘R. I. P. are my orders,’ he answered them all, ‘an’ back to the boys I must go; Four of us died comin’ out with the news. It will help them to know that you know.’”
# Poems of Patriotism/The Better Thing

The Better Thing
It is better to die for the flag, For its red and its white and its blue, Than to hang back and shirk and to lag And let the flag sink out of view. It is better to give up this life In the heat and the thick of the strife Than to live out your days ’neath a sky, Where Old Glory shall never more fly.
The peace that we long for will be Far worse than the war that we dread If never again we’re to see The blue and the white and the red Wind-tossed and sun-kissed in the skies. If ever the Stars and Stripes dies Or loses its luster and pride, We shall wish in our souls we had died.
It is better by far that we die Than that flag shall pass out of the world; If ever it ceases to fly, If ever it’s hauled down and furled,
Dishonor shall stamp us with shame And freedom be naught but a name, And the few years of dearly bought breath Will be filled with worse horrors than death.
# Popular Science Monthly/Volume 18

Scans
Layout 4
# Population and Birth-Control

THE BIRTH-CONTROL LIBRARY Edited by WILLIAM J. ROBINSON, M.D.
POPULATION AND BIRTH-CONTROL
A SYMPOSIUM
EDITED BY EDEN and CEDAR PAUL
1917 THE CRITIC AND GUIDE COMPANY 12 MT. MORRIS PARK WEST NEW YORK
Copyright, 1917, by The Critic and Guide Co.
Introduction By William J. Robinson
Malthus, a Biographical and Critical Study By Achille Loria
Birth-Control and the Wage Earners By Charles V. Drysdale
Race Suicide in the United States By Ludwig Quessel
Eugenics, Birth-Control, and Socialism By Eden Paul
Economics of the Birth Strike By Ludwig Quessel
Decline in the Birth-Rate, Nationality, and Civilisation By Eduard Bernstein
Philosophy of the Birth Strike By Ludwig Quessel
Over-Population as a Cause of War By B. Dunlop
The Decline in the Birth-Rate By R. Manschke
Dysgenic Tendencies of Birth-Control and of the Feminist Movement By S. H. Halford
Women and Birth-Control By F. W. Stella Browne
Editorial Summary and Conclusion
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.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Poret v. Sigler

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
355 U.S. 60
Poret v. Sigler
Messrs. G. W. Gill and Gerard H. Schreiber, for petitioners.
On petition for writ of certiorari to the United States Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit.
PER CURIAM.

## 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
# Poret v. Sigler/Opinion of the Court

* Court Documents
* Case Syllabus
* Opinion of the Court
United States Supreme Court
355 U.S. 60
Poret v. Sigler
The petition for writ of certiorari is granted and in view of the action of the Supreme Court of Louisiana on September 25, 1957, in Poret v. Sigler and Poret v. Louisiana, Nos. 269 and 270, Misc., O.T.1957, certiorari denied, 355 U.S. 879, 78 S.Ct. 144, the judgments heretofore entered are vacated, and the cause is remanded to the District Court for consideration of the application for habeas corpus. The stay heretofore entered is continued in effect until final disposition of the case in the District 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
# Population and Family Planning Law of the People's Republic of China

* Population and Family Planning Law of the People's Republic of China (2001)
* Population and Family Planning Law of the People's Republic of China (2015)
# Porgy

PORGY
DU BOSE HEYWARD
PORGY
DU BOSE HEYWARD
Decorated by
THEODORE NADEJEN
GROSSET & DUNLAP, Publishers by arrangement with GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
Copyright, 1925 By George H. Doran Company
PORGY PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
FOR DOROTHY HEYWARD
* Part I.
* Part II.
* Part III.
* Part IV.
* Part V.
* Part VI.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1940, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 83 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