OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Dely

DELY
Jes' lak toddy wahms you thoo'  Sets yo' haid a reelin', Meks you ovah good and new,  Dat 's de way I 's feelin'. Seems to me hit 's summah time,  Dough hit 's wintah reely, I 's a feelin' jes' dat prime—  An' huh name is Dely.
Dis hyeah love 's a cu'rus thing,  Changes 'roun' de season, Meks you sad or meks you sing,  'Dout no urfly reason. Sometimes I go mopin' 'roun',  Den agin I 's leapin'; Sperits allus up an' down  Even when I 's sleepin'.
Fu' de dreams comes to me den,  An' dey keeps me pitchin', Lak de apple dumplin's w'en  Bilin' in de kitchen. Some one sot to do me hahm,  Tryin' to ovahcome me, Ketchin' Dely by de ahm  So 's to tek huh f'om me.
Mon, you bettah b'lieve I fights  (Dough hit's on'y seemin'); I's a hittin' fu' my rights  Even w'en I 's dreamin'. But I 'd let you have 'em all,  Give 'em to you freely, Good an' bad ones, great an' small,  So 's you leave me Dely.
Dely got dem meltin' eyes,  Big an' black an' tendah. Dely jes' a lady-size,  Delikit an' slendah. Dely brown ez brown kin be  An' huh haih is curly; Oh, she look so sweet to me,—  Bless de precious girlie!
Dely brown ez brown kin be,  She ain' no mullatter; She pure cullud,—don' you see  Dat 's jes' whut 's de mattah? Dat 's de why I love huh so,  D' ain't no mix about huh, Soon 's you see huh face you know  D' ain't no chanst to doubt huh.
Folks dey go to chu'ch an' pray  So 's to git a blessin'. Oomph, dey bettah come my way,  Dey could lu'n a lesson. Sabbaf day I don' go fu',  Jes' to see my pigeon; I jes' sets an' looks at huh,  Dat's enuff 'uligion.
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
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Despair

DESPAIR
Let me close the eyes of my soul  That I may not see What stands between thee and me.
Let me shut the ears of my heart  That I may not hear A voice that drowns yours, my dear.
Let me cut the cords of my life,  Of my desolate being, Since cursed is my hearing and seeing.
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
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Day

DAY
The gray dawn on the mountain top  Is slow to pass away. Still lays him by in sluggish dreams,  The golden God of day.
And then a light along the hills,  Your laughter silvery gay; The Sun God wakes, a bluebird trills,  You come and it is day.
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
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/De Critters' Dance

DE CRITTERS' DANCE
Ain't nobody nevah tol' you not a wo'd a-tall, 'Bout de time dat all de critters gin dey fancy ball? Some folks tell it in a sto'y, some folks sing de rhyme, 'Peahs to me you ought to hyeahed it, case hit 's ol' ez time.
Well, de critters all was p'osp'ous, now would be de chance Fu' to tease ol' Pa'son Hedgehog, givin' of a dance; Case, you know, de critters' preachah was de stric'est kin', An' he nevah made no 'lowance fu' de frisky min'.
So dey sont dey inbitations, Raccoon writ 'em all, "Dis hyeah note is to inbite you to de Fancy Ball; Come erlong an' bring yo' ladies, bring yo' chillun too, Put on all yo' bibs an' tuckahs, show whut you kin do."
W'en de night come, dey all gathahed in a place dey knowed, Fu' enough erway f'om people, nigh enough de road, All de critters had ersponded, Hop-Toad up to Baih, An' I 's hyeah to tell you, Pa'son Hedgehog too, was daih.
Well, dey talked an' made dey 'bejunce, des lak critters do, An' dey walked an' p'omenaded 'roun' an' thoo an' thoo; Jealous ol' Mis' Fox, she whispah, "See Mis' Wildcat daih, Ain't hit scan'lous, huh a-comin' wid huh shouldahs baih?"
Ol' man T'utle was n't honin' fu' no dancin' tricks, So he stayed by ol' Mis' Tu'tle, talkin' politics; Den de ban' hit 'mence a-playin' critters all to place, Fou' ercross an' fou' stan' sideways, smilin' face to face.
'Fessah Frog, he play de co'net, Cricket play de fife, Slews o' Grasshoppahs a-fiddlin' lak to save dey life; Mistah Crow, 'he call de figgers, settin' in a tree, Huh, uh! how dose critters sasshayed was a sight to see.
Mistah Possom swing Mis' Rabbit up an' down de flo', Ol' man Baih, he ain't so nimble, an' it mek him blow; Raccoon dancin' wid Mis' Squ'il squeeze huh little han', She say, "Oh, now ain't you awful, quit it, goodness lan'!"
Pa'son Hedgehog groanin' awful at his converts' shines, 'Dough he peepin' thoo his fingahs at dem movin' lines, 'Twell he cain't set still no longah w'en de fiddles sing, Up he jump, an' bless you, honey, cut de pigeon-wing.
Well, de critters lak to fainted jes' wid dey su'prise. Sistah Fox, she vowed she was n't gwine to b'lieve huh eyes; But dey could n't be no 'sputin' 'bout it any mo': Pa'son Hedgehog was a-cape'in' all erroun' de flo.'
Den dey all jes' capahed scan'lous case dey did n't doubt, Dat dey still could go to meetin'; who could tu'n 'em out? So wid dancin' an' uligion, dey was in de fol', Fu' a-dancin' wid de Pa'son couldn't hu't de soul.
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
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/De Way T'ings Come

DE WAY T'INGS COME
De way t'ings come, hit seems to me, Is des' one monst'ous mystery; De way hit seem to strike a man, Dey ain't no sense, dey ain't no plan; Ef trouble sta'ts a pilin' down, It ain't no use to rage er frown, It ain't no use to strive er pray, Hit's mortal boun' to come dat way.
Now, ef you 's hongry, an' yo' plate Des' keep on sayin' to you, "Wait," Don't mek no diffunce how you feel, 'T won't do no good to hunt a meal, Fu' dat ah meal des' boun' to hide Ontwell de devil's satisfied, An' 'twell dey's some'p'n by to cyave You 's got to ease yo'se'f an' sta've.
But ef dey 's co'n meal on de she'f You need n't bothah 'roun' yo'se'f, Somebody's boun' to amble in An' 'vite you to dey co'n meal bin; An' ef you 's stuffed up to be froat Wid co'n er middlin', fowl er shoat, Des' look out an' you 'll see fu' sho A 'possum faint befo' yo' do'.
De way t'ings happen, huhuh, chile, Dis worl' 's done puzzled me one w'ile; I 's mighty skeered I 'll fall in doubt, I des' won't try to reason out De reason why folks strive an' plan A dinnah fu' a full-fed man, An' shet de do' an' cross de street F'om one dat raaly needs to eat.
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
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Deacon Jones' Grievance

DEACON JONES' GRIEVANCE
I 've been watchin' of 'em, parson,  An' I 'm sorry fur to say 'At my mind is not contented  With the loose an' keerless way 'At the young folks treat the music;  'T ain't the proper sort o' choir. Then I don't believe in Christuns  A-singin' hymns for hire.
But I never would 'a' murmured  An' the matter might 'a' gone Ef it was n't fur the antics  'At I've seen 'em kerry on; So I thought it was my dooty  Fur to come to you an' ask Ef you would n't sort o' gently  Take them singin' folks to task.
Fust, the music they 've be'n singin'  Will disgrace us mighty soon; It 's a cross between a opry  An' a ol' cotillion tune. With its dashes an' its quavers  An' its hifalutin style— Why, it sets my head to swimmin'  When I 'm comin' down the aisle.
Now it might be almost decent  Ef it was n't fur the way 'At they git up there an' sing it,  Hey dum diddle, loud and gay. Why, it shames the name o' sacred  In its brazen wordliness, An' they 've even got "Ol' Hundred"  In a bold, new-fangled dress.
You 'll excuse me, Mr. Parson,  Ef I seem a little sore; But I 've sung the songs of Isr'el  For threescore years an' more, An' it sort o' hurts my feelin's  Fur to see 'em put away Fur these harum-scarum ditties  'At is capturin' the day.
There 's anuther little happ'nin'  'At I 'll mention while I 'm here, Jes' to show 'at my objections  All is offered sound and clear. It was one day they was singin'  An' was doin' well enough— Singin' good as people could sing  Sich an awful mess o' stuff—
When the choir give a holler,  An' the organ give a groan, An' they left one weak-voiced feller  A-singin' there alone! But he stuck right to the music,  Tho' 't was tryin' as could be; An' when I tried to help him,  Why, the hull church scowled at me.
You say that's so-low singin',  Well, I pray the Lord that I Growed up when folks was willin'  To sing their hymns so high. Why, we never had sich doin's  In the good ol' Bethel days, When the folks was all contented  With the simple songs of praise.
Now I may have spoke too open,  But 'twas too hard to keep still, An' I hope you 'll tell the singers  'At I bear 'em no ill-will. 'At they all may git to glory  Is my wish an' my desire, But they 'll need some extry trainin'  'Fore they jine the heavenly choir.
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
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Differences

DIFFERENCES
My neighbor lives on the hill,  And I in the valley dwell, My neighbor must look down on me,  Must I look up?—ah, well, My neighbor lives on the hill,  And I in the valley dwell.
My neighbor reads, and prays,  And I—I laugh, God wot, And sing like a bird when the grass is green  In my small garden plot; But ah, he reads and prays,  And I—I laugh, God wot.
His face is a book of woe,  And mine is a song of glee; A slave he is to the great "They say,"  But I—I am bold and free; No wonder he smacks of woe,  And I have the tang of glee.
My neighbor thinks me a fool,  "The same to yourself," say I; "Why take your books and take your prayers,  Give me the open sky;" My neighbor thinks me a fool,  "The same to yourself," say I.
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
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Dead

DEAD
A knock is at her door, but she is weak; Strange dews have washed the paint streaks from her cheek; She does not rise, but, ah, this friend is known, And knows that he will find her all alone. So opens he the door, and with soft tread Goes straightway to the richly curtained bed. His soft hand on her dewy head he lays. A strange white light she gives him for his gaze. Then, looking on the glory of her charms, He crushes her resistless in his arms.
Stand back! look not upon this bold embrace, Nor view the calmness of the wanton's face; With joy unspeakable and 'bated breath, She keeps her last, long liaison with death!
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
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Death

DEATH
Storm and strife and stress, Lost in a wilderness, Groping to find a way, Forth to the haunts of day
Sudden a vista peeps, Out of the tangled deeps, Only a point—the ray But at the end is day.
Dark is the dawn and chill, Daylight is on the hill, Night is the flitting breath, Day rides the hills of death.
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
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Dinah Kneading Dough

DINAH KNEADING DOUGH
I have seen full many a sight Born of day or drawn by night: Sunlight on a silver stream, Golden lilies all a-dream, Lofty mountains, bold and proud, Veiled beneath the lacelike cloud; But no lovely sight I know Equals Dinah kneading dough.
Brown arms buried elbow-deep Their domestic rhythm keep, As with steady sweep they go Through the gently yielding dough. Maids may vaunt their finer charms— Naught to me like Dinah's arms; Girls may draw, or paint, or sew— I love Dinah kneading dough.
Eyes of jet and teeth of pearl, Hair, some say, too tight a-curl; But the dainty maid I deem Very near perfection's dream. Swift she works, and only flings Me a glance—the least of things. And I wonder, does she know That my heart is in the dough?
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
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Hardenberg, Friedrich Leopold, Freiherr von

Edition of 1920. See also Novalis on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
HARDENBERG, Friedrich Leopold, Freiherr von, better known as ‘Novalis’ (Latin, new land, from the name of a family estate), German author and hymnologist: b. Oberwiederstedt, Prussian Saxony, 2 May 1772; d. Weissenfels, 25 March 1801. With the Schlegels and Tieck, he was one of the founders of the German Romantic School, of which his hymns and fragmentary novels are characteristic products. Idealistic, and based on distinctive views of philosophy, mathematics, art and the sciences they contain a singular mixture of imagination, sensibility, religion and mysticism, tinged by gentle and amiable enthusiasm. But due to his early death from consumption, they do not form a compact philosphy of life. The best of his hymns ‘Though all to Thee were faithless,’ ‘If only He is mine’ and ‘Hymn to Night’ are beautiful, breathing a feeling of isolation and melancholy as to the ultimate attainment of actual good in the world, which was caused, doubtless, by the death of his betrothed, Sophie von Kühn in 1797, and his state of health which prevented the consummation of a second engagement in marriage. This is perhaps best exemplified in ‘Die Lehrlinge zu Sais’ in which immortalizing as the “Meister” Werner, his instructor in ecology at Freiburg, he theorizes the secret of life as “the fulfilled longing of a loving heart.” The best of his prose writings which Carlyle recommended for “perusal and reperusal” is the unfinished novel ‘Heinrich von Ofterdingen’ in which the quest of the “blue flower,” the symbol of Romanticism, is a poetical allegory marked by excellent narrative, interspersed with beautiful verse. Hardenberg's parents were Moravians, which probably accounted for his mystic religious tendencies. At Jena, Leipzig, Wittenberg and Tennstadt he was thoroughly grounded in mathematics, natural science, philosophy and law, and became distinguished for his poetical talents. Becoming auditor of the government salt-works in Weissenfels of which his father was director, he later studied geology at the mining academy of Freiberg, Saxony. He was appointed “Amtshauptmann” magistrate in Thuringia in 1800, but death the following year ended a career full of high promise. His works, collected by the Schlegels, were issued in two volumes, and several times re-edited, appeared with a third volume in 1846. Recent editions are Meisner, C, and Wille, B., (1898); Heilbron, E., (3 vols., 1901); Minor, J., (3 vols., Jena 1907); Boelsche (4 vols., Leiprig 1908); Schmidt, J., 'Heinrich von Ofterdingen' (published separately 1876); Raich, J. M., ‘Novalis' Correspondence’ (1880). Consult Carlyle, T., ‘Novalis’ (in ‘Critical and Miscellaneous Essays,’ Edinburgh ed., New York 1903); Maeterlinck, M., ‘Novalis’ (in ‘On Emerson and Other Essays,’ New York 1912); Haym, R.,
‘Friedrich von Hardenberg’ (2d ed., Gotha 1883); Busse, C., ‘Novalis' Lyrik’ (1898); Bing, J., ‘Friedrich von Hardenberg’ (Berlin 1901); Heilbron, E., ‘Novalis der Romantiker’ (Berlin 1901); Huch, R., ‘Die Romantik’ (4th ed.. Leipzig 1911).
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Hardecanute

Edition of 1920. See also Harthacnut on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
HARDECANUTE, här-dė-kạ-nūt', HARDICANUTE or HARDY CANUTE, king of England and Denmark; son of Canute the Great (q.v.): b. about 1017; d. 8 June 1042. At the time of his father's death in 1035 he was in Denmark, where he was immediately recognized as king. His half-brother, Harold, however, who happelied to be in England at the time, laid claim to the throne of that part of their father's dominions. For a time the mother of Hardecanute succeeded in holding Wessex in his name, while Mercia and Northumbria were held by Harold, such an allotment having been made by a witenagemote held at Oxford. Hardecanute was about to make an armed descent upon England, when Harold died (1040), and his brother peacefully succeeded him. He reigned till 1042, but his reign was not marked by any important event. He left the government almost entirely in the hands of his mother and the powerful Earl Godwin (q.v.), while he gave himself up to feasts and carousals.
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Hardee, William Joseph

Edition of 1920. See also William J. Hardee on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
HARDEE, William Joseph, military officer: b. Savannah, Ga., 10 Oct. 1815; d. Wytheville, Va., 6 Nov. 1B73. He was graduated at West Point in 1838; served with distinction in the Mexican War; and in the Civil War entered the Confederate army with the rank of colonel. He commanded a corps at Shiloh; and was promoted lieutenant-general in 1862. At Perryville he commanded the left wing of the Confederate army, and in December 1864 defended Savannah against General Sherman.
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Harden, William

Edition of 1920. See also the disclaimer.
HARDEN, William, American historian: b. Savannah, Ga., 11 Nov. 1844. He left his studies in the schools of Savannah to join the Confederate army, serving throughout the Civil War in the 54th Georgia infantry and in the signal corps. After the war he studied law and was admitted to the bar in 1873. He was assistant librarian of the Georgia Historical Society from 1866 to 1869, when on 5 August he was appointed librarian, a position he still occupies. He has been librarian of the Savannah public library from its beginning in 1903. He has been a member of the board of managers of Telfair Academy of Arts and Sciences since 1882, and custodian since 1894; organizer and secretary of the Georgia Society of the Sons of the Revolution since 1891; and was a Democratic member of the Georgia house of representatives from 1900-04. Has written much on historical subjects in magazines and journals and has published ‘A History of Savannah and South Georgia’ (1913).
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Halbig, Johann

Edition of 1920. See also Johann Halbig on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
HALBIG, Johann, yō'hän häl'bĭg, German sculptor: b. Donnersdorf, Lower Franconia, 13 July 1814; d. Munich, 29 Aug. 1882. He studied at the Munich Academy, and elsewhere, finally establishing himself at Munich, where he became a professor in the Polytechnic School in 1845. His most important work is the quadriga with four colossal lions for the triumphal gateway, Munich. He also executed the Platen memonal at Ansbach, the bronze statue of Fraunhofer at Munich, the ‘Emancipation’ group in New York, the ‘Crucifixion’ group for Oberammergau, and numerous busts.
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Halleck, Fitz-Greene

Edition of 1920. See also Fitz-Greene Halleck on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
HALLECK, hǎl′ĕk, Fitz-Greene, American poet: b. Guilford, Conn., 8 July 1790; d. there, 19 Nov. 1867. At 18 he became a clerk in a New York bank, in which employment he remained for 20 years. For a long period after this he was the confidential agent of John Jacob Astor, and was named by him one of the original trustees of the Astor Library. In 1849 he retired to his native town. He wrote verses in his boyhood, but these early effusions were excluded from the collected edition of his poems. In 1819 he assisted Joseph Rodman Drake (q. v.) in the humorous series of ‘Croaker’ papers, contributed to the New York Evening Post. Drake’s death in the succeeding year was commemorated by Halleck in a most touching poem. In 1819 was published Halleck’s longest poem, ‘Fanny,’ a satire, in the measure of Byron’s ‘Don Juan,’ on the fashions, follies, and public characters of the day. From the variety and pungency of the local and personal allusions it enjoyed a great but fleeting popularity. In 1827 he published an edition of his poems in one volume, two of the best in the collection, ‘Alnwick Castle’ and ‘Burns,’ having been suggested by scenes and incidents of foreign travel. This edition also included the spirited lyric, ‘Marco Bozzaris,’ by which he will probably be longest kept in mind. Consult Wilson, ‘Life and Letters of Fitz-Greene Halleck’ (1869).
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Harden-Hickey, James Aloysius

Edition of 1920. See also James Harden-Hickey on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
HARDEN-HICKEY, James Aloysius, American writer and adventurer: b. San Francisco, 1854; d. El Paso, Tex., 10 Feb. 1898. According to some accounts he was born in France and descended from an old Catholic Royalist family of Irish origin, whose ancestors had emigrated to France with the Stuarts. He received his education at the Jesuit College of Namur, Belgium, the French Military Academy of Saint Cyr, and at Leipzig. In Paris (1878) he founded Le Triboulet, a satirical journal that frequently brought him into collision with prominent people and the authorities owing to his violent attacks against the Republican government. After passing through a number of libel actions — for which he had to pay dearly — and fighting a series of duels, Harden-Hickey was expelled from France in 1880 by decree of the Minister of the Interior. He had adopted or inherited — it is not clear which — the title of “baron,” and was celebrated as a skilful fencer. About 1889, while making a trip round the world in a sailing vessel, he touched at the island of Trinidad, a desolate, uninhabited little rock in the South Atlantic, 700 miles from Rio de Janeiro. Returning to the United States, he married a daughter of John H. Flagler, the Standard Oil magnate, in 1891. In 1894 he set into operation a scheme to found a principality on Trinidad, and adopted the title of “James I, Prince of Trinidad.” In January 1895, however, a British warship called at the island and reannexed it to the British Empire, to which it had once belonged. Protestations raised by the Brazilian government led to the island being
handed over to Brazil in 1896. Harden-Hickey met his death by an overdose of a drug with — it is supposed — suicidal intention. He was an accomplished linguist and wrote most of his works in French, among them being ‘Sampiers’; ‘Mémoires d'un gommeux’; ‘Près du gouffre’; ‘Un Amour Vendéen’; ‘Aventures merveilleuses de Nabuchodonosor Nosebreaker’; ‘Bernard de Ventador’; and ‘Euthanasia,’ an essay on suicide. See Trinidad, or Ascenão.
# The Encyclopedia Americana (1920)/Halstead, Murat

Edition of 1920. See also Murat Halstead on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
HALSTEAD, Murat, American journalist: b. Ross, Butler County, Ohio, 2 Sept. 1829; d Cincinnati, Ohio, 2 July 1908. At 18 he began writing for newspapers, studied at Farmers' College, near Cincinnati, and did local newspaper reporting on several Cincinnati papers. In 1853 he became manager of a department on the Cincinnati Commercial. The following year he acquired a pecuniary interest in the paper, which began rapidly to increase in circulation and influence. The Commercial combining with the Gazette, its rival, the Cincinnati Commercial-Gazette became the recognized organ of the Ohio Republicans. In 1890 he removed to Brooklyn, N. Y., where he edited the Standard Union. Later he was a contributor to magazines and as a special correspondent went to the Philippines during the Spanish-American War. He wrote ‘The Story of Cuba’; ‘Life of William McKinley’; ‘The Story of the Philippines’; ‘History of American Expansion’; ‘Life of Admiral Dewey’; ‘The Boer and British War’; ‘The War Between Russia and Japan’ (1905), etc.
# The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (ed. Hutchinson, 1914)/Sonnet: England in 1819

SONNET: ENGLAND IN 1819
[Published by Mrs. Shelley, P. W., 1839, 1st ed.]