OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect/The Better vor zeèn o' you

THE BETTER VOR ZEÈN O’ YOU.
’Twer good what Meäster Collins spoke O’ spite to two poor spitevul vo’k. When woone twold tother o’ the two “I be never the better vor zeèn o’ you.” If soul to soul, as Christians should, Would always try to do zome good, “How vew,” he cried, “would zee our feäce A-brighten’d up wi’ smiles o’ greäce, An’ tell us, or could tell us true, I be never the better vor zeèn o’ you.”
A man mus’ be in evil ceäse To live ’ithin a land o’ greäce, Wi’ nothèn that a soul can read O’ goodness in his word or deed; To still a breast a-heav’d wi’ sighs, Or dry the tears o’ weepèn eyes; To staÿ a vist that spite ha’ wrung, Or cool the het ov anger’s tongue: Or bless, or help, or gi’e, or lend; Or to the friendless stand a friend, An’ zoo that all could tell en true, “I be never the better vor zeèn o’ you.”
​Oh! no, mid all o’s try to spend Our passèn time to zome good end, An’ zoo vrom day to day teäke heed, By mind, an’ han’, by word or deed; To lessen evil, and increase The growth o’ righteousness an’ peäce, A-speakèn words o’ lovèn-kindness, Openèn the eyes o’ blindness; Helpèn helpless striver’s weakness, Cheerèn hopeless grievers’ meekness, Meäkèn friends at every meetèn, Veel the happier vor their greetèn; Zoo that vew could tell us true, “I be never the better vor zeèn o’ you.” No, let us even try to win Zome little good vrom sons o’ sin, An’ let their evils warn us back Vrom teäkèn on their hopeless track, Where we mid zee so dear’s the zun That harm a-done is harm a-won, An’ we mid cry an’ tell em true, “I be even the better vor zeèn o’ you.”
# Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect/The Blackbird (1)

THE BLACKBIRD.
Ov all the birds upon the wing Between the zunny show’rs o’ spring,— Vor all the lark, a-swingèn high, Mid zing below a cloudless sky. ​An’ sparrows, clust’rèn roun’ the bough, Mid chatter to the men at plough,— The blackbird, whisslèn in among The boughs, do zing the gaÿest zong.
Vor we do hear the blackbird zing His sweetest ditties in the spring, When nippèn win’s noo mwore do blow Vrom northern skies, wi’ sleet or snow, But drēve light doust along between The leäne-zide hedges, thick an’ green; An’ zoo the blackbird in among The boughs do zing the gaÿest zong.
’Tis blithe, wi’ newly-open’d eyes. To zee the mornèn’s ruddy skies; Or, out a-haulèn frith or lops Vrom new-plēsh’d hedge or new-vell’d copse. To rest at noon in primrwose beds Below the white-bark’d woak-trees’ heads; But there’s noo time, the whole däy long, Lik’ evenèn wi’ the blackbird’s zong.
Vor when my work is all a-done Avore the zettèn o’ the zun. Then blushèn Jeäne do walk along The hedge to meet me in the drong. An’ stay till all is dim an’ dark Bezides the ashen tree’s white bark; An’ all bezides the blackbird’s shrill An’ runnèn evenèn-whissle’s still.
An’ there in bwoyhood I did rove Wi’ pryèn eyes along the drove To vind the nest the blackbird meäde O’ grass-stalks in the high bough’s sheäde; ​Or clim’ aloft, wi’ clingèn knees, Vor crows’ aggs up in swaÿèn trees, While frighten’d blackbirds down below Did chatter o’ their little foe. An’ zoo there’s noo pleäce lik’ the drong, Where I do hear the blackbird’s zong.
# Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect/The Broken Heart

THE BROKEN HEART.
News o’ grief had overteäken Dark-ey’d Fanny, now vorseäken; There she zot, wi’ breast a-heavèn, While vrom zide to zide, wi’ grievèn, Vell her head, wi’ tears a-creepèn Down her cheäks, in bitter weepèn. There wer still the ribbon-bow She tied avore her hour ov woe, An’ there wer still the han’s that tied it  Hangèn white,  Or wringèn tight, In ceäre that drown’d all ceäre bezide it.
When a man, wi’ heartless slightèn, Mid become a maïden’s blightèn, He mid ceärlessly vorseäke her, But must answer to her Meäker; He mid slight, wi’ selfish blindness, All her deeds o’ lovèn-kindness, God wull waïgh em wi’ the slightèn That mid be her love’s requitèn; He do look on each deceiver,  He do know  What weight o’ woe Do breäk the heart ov ev’ry griever.
# Poems of Rural Life in the Dorset Dialect/The Brook that Ran by Gramfer's

THE BROOK THAT RAN BY GRAMFER’S.
When snow-white clouds wer thin an’ vew Avore the zummer sky o’ blue, An’ I’d noo ho but how to vind Zome plaÿ to entertaïn my mind; Along the water, as did wind  Wi’ zedgy shoal an’ hollow crook,  How I did ramble by the brook  That ran all down vrom gramfer’s.
A-holdèn out my line beyond The clote-leaves, wi’ my withy wand, How I did watch, wi’ eager look, My zwimmèn cork, a-zunk or shook By minnows nibblèn at my hook,  A-thinkèn I should catch a breäce  O’ perch, or at the least some deäce,  A-zwimmèn down vrom gramfer’s.
Then ten good deäries wer a-ved Along that water’s windèn bed, An’ in the lewth o’ hills an’ wood A half a score farm-housen stood: But now,—count all o’m how you would,  So many less do hold the land,—  You’d vind but vive that still do stand,  A-comèn down vrom gramfer’s.
There, in the midst ov all his land, The squier’s ten-tunn’d house did stand, Where he did meäke the water clim’ A bank, an’ sparkle under dim Bridge arches, villèn to the brim  His pon’, an’ leäpèn, white as snow,  Vrom rocks a-glitt’rèn in a bow,  An’ runnèn down to gramfer’s.
​An’ now woone wing is all you’d vind O’ thik girt house a-left behind; An’ only woone wold stwonen tun ’S a-stannèn to the raïn an’ zun,— An’ all’s undone that he’d a-done;  The brook ha’ now noo call to staÿ  To vill his pon’ or clim’ his baÿ,  A-runnèn down to gramfer’s.
When woonce, in heavy raïn, the road At Grenley bridge wer overflow’d, Poor Sophy White, the pleäces pride, A-gwaïn vrom market, went to ride Her pony droo to tother zide;  But vound the streäm so deep an’ strong,  That took her off the road along  The hollow down to gramfer’s.
’Twer dark, an’ she went on too vast To catch hold any thing she pass’d; Noo bough hung over to her hand, An’ she could reach noo stwone nor land, Where woonce her little voot could stand;  Noo ears wer out to hear her cries,  Nor wer she woonce a-zeen by eyes,  Till took up dead at gramfer’s.
# Poems (Ripley)

POEMS
Lillie Rosalie Ripley
BOSTON RICHARD G. BADGER THE GORHAM PRESS 1910
Copyright 1910, by Richard G. Badger
All Rights Reserved
The Gorham Press. Boston. U. S. A.
CONTENTS
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
# Popular Science Monthly/Volume 22

Scans
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# Poems of Sidney Lanier/A Song of the Future

Sidney Lanier composed this poem in Baltimore, Maryland in 1878.
Sail fast, sail fast,  Ark of my hopes, Ark of my dreams;  Sweep lordly o’er the drowned Past,  Fly glittering through the sun’s strange beams;  Sail fast, sail fast. Breaths of new buds from off some drying lea With news about the Future scent the sea: My brain is beating like the heart of Haste: I’ll loose me a bird upon this Present waste;  Go, trembling song,  And stay not long; oh, stay not long:  Thou’rt only a gray and sober dove,  But thine eye is faith and thy wing is love.
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 Sidney Lanier/In Absence

Composed in Baltimore, Maryland in 1874 and first published in Lippincott's Magazine, September, 1875.
IN ABSENCE.
# Poems of Sidney Lanier/Laus Mariæ

Sidney Lanier composed this poem in Baltimore, Maryland in 1874–75.
Across the brook of Time man leaping goes  On stepping-stones of epochs, that uprise Fixed, memorable, midst broad shallow flows  Of neutrals, kill-times, sleeps, indifferencies. So ’twixt each morn and night rise salient heaps:  Some cross with but a zigzag, jaded pace From meal to meal: some with convulsive leaps  Shake the green tussocks of malign disgrace: And some advance by system and deep art  O’er vantages of wealth, place, learning, tact. But thou within thyself, dear manifold heart,  Dost bind all epochs in one dainty Fact.  Oh, sweet, my pretty sum of history,  I leapt the breadth of Time in loving thee!
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 Sidney Lanier/A Dedication. To Charlotte Cushman

Sidney Lanier composed this poem in 1876. Lanier had been contracted to write a biography of Charlotte Cushman (1816–1876), an American actress, following her decease. Lanier composed three poems to be used in the biography: “A Dedication. To Charlotte Cushman” (this poem), “To Charlotte Cushman”, and “At First: To Charlotte Cushman”. Unfortunately the contract was cancelled upon the illness of a family friend who was to supply Lanier with the actress’ papers. This poem was published in Earliest Collected Poems in 1876.
As Love will carve dear names upon a tree, Symbol of gravure on his heart to be,
So thought I thine with loving text to set In the growth and substance of my canzonet;
But, writing it, my tears begin to fall— This wild-rose stem for thy large name’s too small!
Nay, still my trembling hands are fain, are fain Cut the good letters though they lap again;
Perchance such folk as mark the blur and stain Will say, ‘It was the beating of the rain;’
Or, haply these o’er-woundings of the stem May loose some little balm, to plead for them.
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 Sidney Lanier/Acknowledgment

Composed in Baltimore, Maryland in 1874 and first published in Lippincott's Magazine, November, 1876.
ACKNOWLEDGMENT.
# Poems of Sidney Lanier/From the Flats

This poem is was written by Sidney Lanier while he was living in Tampa, Florida. The poem expresses his longing to see the hills of his native Georgia, after living in the monotonous flatlands of Florida. The poem was signed and dated Tampa, Florida, 1877.
What heartache—ne’er a hill! Inexorable, vapid, vague and chill The drear sand-levels drain my spirit low. With one poor word they tell me all they know; Whereat their stupid tongues, to tease my pain, Do drawl it o’er again and o’er again. They hurt my heart with griefs I cannot name:  Always the same, the same.
 Nature hath no surprise, No ambuscade of beauty ’gainst mine eyes From brake or lurking dell or deep defile; No humors, frolic forms—this mile, that mile; No rich reserves or happy-valley hopes Beyond the bend of roads, the distant slopes. Her fancy fails, her wild is all run tame:  Ever the same, the same.
 Oh might I through these tears But glimpse some hill my Georgia high uprears, Where white the quartz and pink the pebble shine, The hickory heavenward strives, the muscadine Swings o’er the slope, the oak’s far-falling shade Darkens the dogwood in the bottom glade, And down the hollow from a ferny nook  Bright leaps a living brook!
# Poems of Sidney Lanier/A Song of Eternity in Time

Sidney Lanier first composed this poem in 1867 in Macon, Georgia. He revised the poem in 1879.
Once, at night, in the manor wood  My Love and I long silent stood,  Amazed that any heavens could Decree to part us, bitterly repining.  My Love, in aimless love and grief,  Reached forth and drew aside a leaf  That just above us played the thief And stole our starlight that for us was shining.
 A star that had remarked her pain  Shone straightway down that leafy lane,  And wrought his image, mirror-plain, Within a tear that on her lash hung gleaming.  “Thus Time,” I cried, “is but a tear  Some one hath wept ’twixt hope and fear,  Yet in his little lucent sphere Our star of stars, Eternity, is beaming.”
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
# Polish Fairy Tales

POLISH FAIRY TALES
THE FAIRY GIRLS MAKE THE CARPET
POLISH FAIRY TALES
TRANSLATED FROM A. J. GLINSKI
BY MAUDE ASHURST BIGGS
ILLUSTRATED BY CECILE WALTON
LONDON: JOHN LANE THE BODLEY HEAD
NEW YORK JOHN LANE COMPANY 1920
The Mayflower Press, Plymouth, England. William Brendon & Son, Ltd.
The pictures in this book are dedicated to my sons... Gavril and Teddy.
Cecile Walton
TALES FROM POLAND
THESE are selections from a large collection made by A. J. Glinski, printed at Wilna in 1862. These fairy tales come from a far past and may even date from primitive Aryan times. They represent the folklore current among the peasantry of the Eastern provinces of Poland, and also in those provinces usually known as White Russia.
They were set down by Glinski just as they were related to him by the peasants.
In the translation it was of course necessary to shorten them considerably; the continual repetition however quaint and fascinating in the original cannot easily be reproduced. Portions, too, are often told in rhyme, or in a species of rhyming prose that we associate with the ancient ballad. The obvious likenesses between these and the folklore of Germany, the Celtic nations, or to the Indian fairy-tales, will strike every reader.
Maude Ashurst Biggs.
CONTENTS
| | PAGE |
| The Frog Princess | 1 |
| Princess Miranda and Prince Hero | 15 |
| The Eagles | 29 |
| The Whirlwind | 37 |
| The Good Ferryman and the Water Nymphs | 53 |
| The Princess of the Brazen Mountain | 69 |
| The Bear in the Forest Hut | 79 |
| Appendix | 94 |
ILLUSTRATIONS
| The Fairy Girls Make the Carpet | FRONTISPIECE |
| | TO FACE PAGE |
| The Little House Turns | 10 |
| The Way Home | 13 |
| Through the Telescope | 15 |
| The Dragon who Kept Watch | 25 |
| The Children Transformed | 29 |
| The Old Man Blesses the Princess | 31 |
| To Trick the Basilisk | 36 |
| The Bride Carried off by the Whirlwind | 37 |
| The Horse Appears in the Storm | 42 |
| The Dwarf Defeated | 49 |
| The Good Ferryman Captures the Mermaid | 53 |
| The Purse that was Ever Full | 55 |
| The Meeting of the Sisters | 63 |
| The Fight for the Magic Boots | 69 |
| The Prince Steals the Wings | 70 |
| The Truant Wife is Captured | 77 |
| The Mouse Saves the Good Little Girl | 79 |
| The Good Little Girl is Sent Away | 80 |
| The Reward of the Good Little Girl | 93 |
POLISH FAIRY TALES
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# Poor man's labour never done, or, The mother's advice/The Poor Man's Labour's never Done

The Poor Man's Labour's never Done.
WHen I was a batchelor I lived rarely, and my mind it was content; I married a wife for to lie by me, which makes me now for to lament.
When I became a ſervant to her, I milk'd her cow and black'd her ſhoon, Womens' ways they muſt have pleaſure, the poor man's labour's now begun.
In the morning when I do riſe, for fear my work ſhould be behind, My wife's in bed to twelve o'clock, the ſhorteſt day in the winter time.
When I come in both wet and weary, cold and wet I cannot ſhun, My wife's in bed, has on no fire, the poor man's labour's never done.
The firſt half year that we were married, I could hardly take one night's ſleep, She'd nip my ſhins till the blood did trinkle, ſaying, huſband dear ſtreach down your feet.
When I aſk'd what was the reaſon, ſhe cries husband, Come, come, come; Womens' way they muſt have pleaſure, the poor man's labour's never done.
​The next half year that we were married, ſhe bore to me a lovely babe, She ſet me down to rock the cradle, and give it caudle when it wak'd.
If it ſcreech'd, ſhe bitterly ſcolded, then my, ſorrow was begun; Womens' ways they muſt have pleaſure, the poor man's labour's never done.
At twelve o'clock of the night, ſhe would embrace me in my ſleep, Take me in her infolded arms, wanting what ſhe cannot get.
She bereaves me of the blankets, if I ſpeak I'm forc'd to run, Wanting breeches, wig and waiſtcoat, the poor man's labour's never done.
All you that has a mind to marry, I pray you marry a loving wife, Do not marry my wife's ſiſter, for ſhe will plague you all your life.
Do not marry her mother's daughter, ſhe will plague you evermore; Take from me my wife and welcome, and then my care and trouble's o'er.
Out ſpoke my good old mother, as ſhe ſat weeping all alone, Son, ſhe ſaid, There's women plenty, and why ſhould you be bound to one?
​Take another one and try her, if you find ſhe does not do, Take the third one, and a fourth one, then your pleaſure's always new.
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
# Poor man's looking glass

THE
Poor Man's Looking Glaſs.
To which are added,
The Young MAN'S Declaration.
ROBERT and NELL; or, O that I ne'er had been Married.
LOVE is the Occaſion of my overthrow.
The BOTTLE and FRIEND.
Entered according to Order.
* The Poor Man's Looking Glass
* The Young Man's Declaration
* Robert and Nell
* Love is the Occasion of my Overthrow
* The Bottle and Friend
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
# Poor man's labour never done, or, The mother's advice/The Auld Man's Mare's Dead

The AULD MAN'S MARE'S DEAD.
THE auld man's mare's dead, The puire man's mare's dead, The auld man's mare's dead, A mile aboon Dundee.
She had the hooks they ca'd the crooks, The jaw piſh and the wanton looks: On every lug ſhe had the brooks, And the hooks aboon her eye. Chor. And the auld man's mare's, etc.
She was cut-luggit, panch-lipit, Steel-wamed, ſtanchel-fitit, Chanler-chaftet, and lang-neckit, And yet the bruit did die. Chor. And the auld Man's, etc.
When firſt my maſter came to town, He tied me to a ſtanchel round, He took a chappin to himſel, But ne'er a drap gae me.
Chor. And the auld man's mare's dead, The puire man's mare's dead; The peats and tures and a's to lead, And yet the brute aid die.
Printed by J. & M. ROBERTSON, Saltmarket.
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
# Poor man's labour never done, or, The mother's advice

Τ Η Ε
Poor Man's Labour never Done;
OR, THE
Mother's Advice.
TO WHICH ARE ADDED,
A SATYR ON ALL TRADES.
AND
The AULD MAN'S MARE'S DEAD.
GLASGOW,
PRINTED BY J. & M. ROBERTSON,
Saltmarket, 1802.
* The Poor Man's Labour's never Done
* A Satyr Upon All Trades
* The Auld Man's Mare's Dead
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
# Popular Science Monthly/Volume 17/May 1880/The Electrical Polyscope

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* THE ELECTRICAL. POLYSCOPE.
THE electrical polyscope is a simple and ingenious apparatus for giving light in the cavities of the human body, the invention of M. Trouve, who has distinguished himself by the contrivance of several other instruments useful to physicians and involving curious applications of electricity. It consists of an energetic and constant battery, of a reservoir or secondary battery, and of parabolic reflectors adapted to the different uses to which it may be applied, which are furnished with additional mirrors or used without them. A minute platinum thread, connected with the conducting wires of the battery, is placed in the middle of each reflector. When the battery is put in action, the wire becomes incandescent. A special rheostat is provided to regulate the flow of the electricity, which plays a part similar to that of the faucet of a water-reservoir, and controls the flow of the fluid with such exactness as to permit the finest threads of platinum
| Fig. 1. | Fig. 2. | Fig. 3. |
to approach the point of fusion without passing it. The melting-point of the wires used having been determined in the beginning, can always afterward be avoided without trouble. A galvanometer with two circuits, in which the electro-motive force of the reservoir and that of the battery are in opposition, enables the operator to observe ​the condition of the apparatus at every moment. Figs. 1 and 3 represent two of the reflectors. That shown in Fig. 1 is used to light up the mouth, and is of such power as to render the teeth transparent, and make them show every detail of their condition. Placed on the extremity of a probe inserted in the œsophagus, it makes it possible to observe the condition of the stomach. Fig. 3 shows the reflector with mirrors for use in laryngoscopy and rhinoscopy. This adaptation of the instrument may be used by dentists to show the back part of the teeth, without compelling the patient to assume a disagreeable position, as in Fig. 2. The polyscopes are superior to every other device for introducing light to all parts of the human body. With them the source of light may be placed at as minute a distance as is desired from the part to be examined without inconvenience to the operator. With a slight modification the polyscope may be employed as the instrument for performing the very different operation of cauterization. It is of service in other fields than those of medicine and surgery. Captain Manceron, at St. Thomas of Aquinas, has used it to examine the interior of shells and cannon. It is employed likewise in powder magazines, and is a similar apparatus to that used by divers and gatherers of oysters, corals, and pearls, to light up the bottom of the sea.
# Popular Science Monthly/Volume 63/June 1903/Discussion and Correspondence

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MAGAZINE SCIENCE.
To the Editor: In the course of the past year or two I have read quite a number of articles on scientific subjects in different magazines by Carl Snyder. They seem very interesting, and I should like to know whether they are quite reliable.—B. F. L.
[This question, which in one form or another has been asked a number of times, must be answered in the negative. Mr. Snyder appears not to have had a scientific training; his articles are sensational and inaccurate. This somewhat sweeping condemnation is easily justified. Let us consider the last article by Mr. Snyder that has come to our attention—'The Mechanism of the Brain' in Harper's Monthly for May. It is a potpourri of truth, half-truth and falsehood concerning chemistry, physics, anatomy, physiology and psychology. Thus we are told:
Within half a column Mr. Snyder passes easily from the ether to electricity:
Physicists may not know all that they would like to know about the ether and electricity, but they know enough not to write nonsense about them.
As an example of misstatement of fact the following may be quoted:
The question of the intellectual attainments of poets may be left to the editor of Harper's Monthly; we are able to state definitely that the weight of Byron's brain is unknown, as is also true in the case of Turgenieff, whose brain is given as the second largest on Mr. Snyder's 'authoritative' list. In the same paragraph Mr. Snyder says:
Apart from such indications as are given by the size of the hat, the only feasible directions would be for the interested person to commit suicide, bequeathing his brain to Professor Wilder's collection.
It may seem unkind thus to criticize Mr. Snyder's articles, but it is unfair to the public for magazines, such as Harper's, Scribner's, The Century and McClure's, not to separate their science from their fiction.—Editor.]