OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Poemas ingleses/VI

Sing at her window, ye heard early wings Buzz in her room along her loss of sleep, In whose song joy's self sings! O small flies, tumble and creep Along the counterpane and on her fingers In mating pairs. She lingers. Along her joined-felt legs a prophecy Joy to be plucked, O yet ungathered rose! Come up! Come up! Pleasure must thee befall! Life hums around her senses petalled close. Look how the sun is altogether all! Come up! Awake! Dress for undressing! Stand! Look how she tarries! Tell her: fear not glee! Creeps like an inward hand.
# Poemas ingleses/IX

Now is she gowned completely, her face won To a flush. Look how the sun Shines hot and how the creeper, loosed, doth strain To hit the heated pane! She is all white, all she's awaiting him. Her eyes are bright and dim. Her hands are cold, her lips are dry, her heart Pants like pursued hart.
# Poemas ingleses/VII

Now is she risen. Look how she looks down, After her slow down-slid night-gown, On her unspotted while of nakedness Save where the beast's difference from her white frame Hairily triangling black below doth shame Her to-day's sight of it, till the caress Of the chemise cover her body. Dress! Stop not, sitting upon the bed's hard edge, Stop not to wonder at by-and-bye, nor guess! List to the rapid birds i'th' window ledge! Up,up and washed! Lo! she is up half-gowned, For she lacks hands to have power to button fit The white symbolic wearing, and she's found By her maids thus, that come to perfect it.
# Poemas ingleses/X

Now is she issued. List how all speech pines Then bursts into a wave of speech again! Now is she issued out to where the guests Look on her daring not to look at them. The hot sun outside shines. A sweaty oiliness of hot life rests On the day's face this hour. A mad joy's pent in each warm thing's hushed power.
# Poems (Rossetti, 1901)/"Thy Brother's Blood crieth"

THE GERMAN-FRENCH CAMPAIGN.
1870-1871.
These two pieces, written during the suspense of a great nation's agony, aim at expressing human sympathy, not political bias.
# Poems (Angier)

POEMS
by
MRS. ANNIE LANMAN ANGIER
BOSTON
A. WILLIAMS AND COMPANY
Old Corner Bookstore
1883
Copyright,
1882,
By Annie Lanman Angier.
All rights reserved.
ELECTROTYPED.
BOSTON STEREOTYPE FOUNDRY,
No. 4 Pearl Street.
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
# Poems: New and Old (Newbolt)/The Old Superb

The Old Superb
# Poems: New and Old (Newbolt)/The Song of the Sou' Wester

II
The Song of the Sou' Wester
# Poems: New and Old (Newbolt)/Vitaï Lampada

First published in Admirals All and Other Verses (1898)
Vitaï Lampada
# Poems: New and Old (Newbolt)/The Little Admiral

IV
The Little Admiral
# Poems: New and Old (Newbolt)/The Quarter-Gunner's Yarn

The Quarter-Gunner's Yarn
# Poems: New and Old (Newbolt)/The Song of the Guns at Sea

V
The Song of the Guns at Sea
# Poems: New and Old (Newbolt)/Væ Victis

Væ Victis
# Poems: Second Series

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Poems: Second Series."
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* Poems: Second Series, collection of poetry by Emily Dickinson (1891)
* Poems: Second Series, collection of poetry by Harriett Stockall (1886) IA

### See also

* Poems
# Poems: New and Old (Newbolt)/The Middle Watch

III
The Middle Watch
# Phantom

1805, first published 1834
All look and likeness caught from earth All accident of kin and birth, Had pass'd away. There was no trace Of aught on that illumined face, Uprais'd beneath the rifted stone But of one spirit all her own ;-- She, she herself, and only she, Shone through her body visibly.
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
# Phantom Wires

* "Phantom Wires" in The Smart Set, 1906 March
* Phantom Wires, Little, Brown and Co, 1907
# Pharos Loquitur

Far in the bosom of the deep, O'er these wild shelves my watch I keep; A ruddy gem of changeful light, Bound on the dusky brow of night, The seaman bids my lustre hail, And scorns to strike his timorous sail.
# Pharos and Pharillon/Advert

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# Pharaoh and the Sergeant

* Pharaoh and the Sergeant in The Five Nations
* "Pharaoh and the Sergeant" in McClure's Magazine, 9 (5) (1897)
* Pharaoh and the Sergeant in Rudyard Kipling's Verse, Inclusive Edition
# Pharaoh

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Pharaoh."
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* “Pharaoh,” a chapter in Tales of Two Countries by Alexander Kielland (translated by William Archer, 1891)
* “Pharaoh” in A Dictionary of the Book of Mormon edited by George Reynolds (1891)
* "Pharaoh," in Easton's Bible Dictionary (1897)
* "Pharaoh," in Encyclopædia Britannica (11th ed., 1911)
# Poems (Barbauld)/Hymns/Hymn I

HYMN I.
JEHOVAH reigns: let every nation hear,
And at his footstool bow with holy fear;
​ Let heaven's high arches echo with his name,
 And the wide peopled earth his praise proclaim;
Then send it down to hell's deep glooms resounding,
Thro' all her caves in dreadful murmurs sounding.
He rules with wide and absolute command
 O'er the broad ocean and the stedfast land:
 Jehovah reigns, unbounded, and alone,
 And all creation hangs beneath his throne:
He reigns alone; let no inferior nature
Usurp, or share the throne of the creator.
He saw the struggling beams of infant light
 Shoot thro' the massy gloom of ancient night;
 His spirit hush'd the elemental strife,
 And brooded o'er the kindling seeds of life:
Seasons and months began the long procession
And measur'd o'er the year in bright succession.
​ The joyful sun sprung up th' etherial way,
 Strong as a giant, as a bridegroom gay;
 And the pale moon diffus'd her shadowy light
 Superior o'er the dusky brow of night;
Ten thousand glittering lamps the skies adorning,
Numerous as dew drops from the womb of morning.
Earth's blooming face with rising flowers he drest,
 And spread a verdant mantle o'er her breast;
 Then from the hollow of his hand he pours
 The circling waters round her winding shores,
The new-born world in their cool arms embracing,
And with soft murmurs still her banks caressing.
At length she rose complete in finish'd pride,
 All fair and spotless, like a virgin bride;
 Fresh with untarnish'd lustre as she stood
 Her Maker bless'd his work, and call'd it good; ​The morning stars with joyful acclamation
Exulting sung, and hail'd the new creation.
Yet this fair world, the creature of a day,
 Tho' built by God's right hand, mud pass away;
 And long oblivion creep o'er mortal things,
 The fate of empires, and the pride of kings:
Eternal night shall veil their proudest story,
And drop the curtain o'er all human glory.
The sun himself, with weary clouds opprest,
 Shall in his silent, dark pavilion rest;
 His golden urn shall broke and useless lie,
 Amidst the common ruins of the sky;
The stars rush headlong in the wild commotion
And bathe their glittering foreheads in the ocean.
​ But fix'd, O God! for-ever stands thy throne;
 Jehovah reigns, a universe alone;
 Th' eternal fire that feeds each vital flame,
 Collected, or diffus'd is still the same.
He dwells within his own unfathom'd essence,
And fills all space with his unbounded presence.
But oh! our highest notes the theme debase,
 And silence is our least injurious praise:
 Cease, cease your songs, the daring flight controul,
 Revere him in the stillness of the soul;
With silent duty meekly bend before him,
And deep within your inmost hearts adore him.
# Poems (Barbauld)/Hymns/Hymn II

HYMN II.
PRAISE to God, immortal praise,
For the love that crowns our days;
Bounteous source of every joy,
Let thy praise our tongues employ.
For the blessings of the field,
For the stores the gardens yield,
For the vine's exalted juice,
For the generous olive's use:
​Flocks that whiten all the plain,
Yellow sheaves of ripen'd grain;
Clouds that drop their fatt'ning dews,
Suns that temperate warmth diffuse:
All that Spring with bounteous hand
Scatters o'er the smiling land:
All that liberal Autumn pours
From her rich o'erflowing stores:
These to thee, my God, we owe;
Source whence all our blessings flow;
And for these, my soul shall raise
Grateful vows and solemn praise.
Yet should rising whirlwinds tear
From its stem the ripening ear;
Should the fig-tree's blasted shoot
Drop her green untimely fruit;
​Should the vine put forth no more,
Nor the olive yield her store;
Though the sick'ning flocks should fall,
And the herds desert the stall;
Should thine alter'd hand restrain
The early and the latter rain;
Blast each opening bud of joy.
And the rising year destroy;
Yet to thee my soul should raise
Grateful vows, and solemn praise;
And, when every blessing's flown,
Love thee—for thy self alone.
# Poems (Barbauld)/Hymns/Hymn IV

HYMN IV.
BEHOLD, where breathing love divine,
 Our dying Master stands!
His weeping followers gathering round
 Receive his last commands.
From that mild teacher's parting lips
 What tender accents fell!
The gentle precept which he gave
 Became its author well.
"Bless'd is the man, whose soft'ning heart
 "Feels all another's pain;
"To whom the supplicating eye
 "Was never rais'd in vain.
​"Whose bread expands with generous warmth
 "A stranger's woes to feel;
"And bleeds in pity o'er the wound
 "He wants the power to heal.
"He spreads his kind supporting arms
 "To every child of grief;
"His secret bounty largely flows,
 "And brings unask'd relief.
"To gentle offices of love
 "His feet are never slow;
"He views thro' mercy's melting eye
 "A brother in a foe.
"Peace from the bosom of his God,
 "My peace to him I give;
"And when he kneels before the throne,
 "His trembling soul shall live.
​"To him protection shall be shewn,
 "And mercy from above
"Descend on those who thus fulfil
 "The perfect law of love."
# Poems (Barbauld)/Hymns/Hymn V

HYMN V.
AWAKE, my soul! lift up thine eyes,
See where thy foes against thee rise,
In long array, a numerous host;
Awake, my soul, or thou art lost.
Here giant danger threat'ning stands
Mustering his pale terrific bands;
There pleasure's silken banners spread,
And willing souls are captive led.
​See where rebellious passions rage,
And fierce desires and lust engage;
The meanest foe of all the train
Has thousands and ten thousands slain.
Thou tread'st upon enchanted ground,
Perils and snares beset thee round;
Beware of all, guard every part,
But most, the traitor in thy heart.
Come then, my soul, now learn to wield
The weight of thine immortal shield;
Put on the armour from above
Of heavenly truth and heavenly love.
The terror and the charm repel,
And powers of earth, and powers of hell;
The man of Calvary triumph'd here;
Why should his faithful followers fear?
# Poems (Barbauld)/Hymns

HYMNS.
Quid prius dicam solitis parentis
Laudibus? qui res hominum, ac Deorum,
Qui mare, ac terras, variisque mundum
Temperat horis?
* Hymn I (Jehovah reigns: let every nation hear)
* Hymn II (Praise to God, immortal praise)
* Hymn III for Easter-Sunday (Again the Lord of life and light)
* Hymn IV (Behold, where breathing love divine)
* Hymn V (Awake, my soul! lift up thine eyes)
# Poems (Barbauld)/On a Lady's Writing

On a LADY's WRITING.
# Poems (Barbauld)/Hymns/Hymn III

HYMN III.
For Easter-Sunday.
AGAIN the Lord of life and light
 Awakes the kindling ray;
Unseals the eyelids of the morn,
 And pours increasing day.
O what a night was that, which wrap'd
 The heathen world in gloom!
O what a sun which broke this day,
 Triumphant from the tomb!
This day be grateful homage paid,
 And loud hosannas sung;
Let gladness dwell in every heart,
 And praise on every tongue.
​Ten thousand differing lips shall join
 To hail this welcome morn,
Which scatters blessings from its wings,
 To nations yet unborn.
Jesus, the friend of human kind,
 With strong compassion mov'd,
Descended like a pitying God,
 To save the souls he lov'd.
The powers of darkness leagued in vain
 To bind his soul in death;
He shook their kingdom when he fell,
 With his expiring breath.
Not long the toils of hell could keep
 The hope of Judah's line;
Corruption never could take hold
 On aught so much divine.
​And now his conquering chariot wheels
 Ascend the lofty skies;
While broke, beneath his powerful cross,
 Death's iron sceptre lies.
Exalted high at God's right hand,
 And Lord of all below,
Thro' him is pardoning love dispens'd,
 And boundless blessings flow.
And still for erring, guilty man,
 A brother's pity flows;
And still his bleeding heart is touch'd
 With memory of our woes.
To thee, my Saviour, and my king,
 Glad homage let me give;
And stand prepar'd like thee to die,
 With thee that I may live.
# Poems (Barbauld)/On the Backwardness of the Spring 1771

ON THE
Backwardness of the Spring 1771.
Estatem increpitans seram, zephyrosque morantes. Virgil.
IN vain the sprightly sun renews his course,
Climbs up th' ascending signs and leads the day,
While long embattled clouds repel his force,
And lazy vapours choke the golden ray.
In vain the spring proclaims the new-born year;
No flowers beneath her lingering footsteps spring,
No rosy garland binds her flowing hair,
And in her train no feather'd warblers sing.
Her opening breast is stain'd with frequent showers,
Her streaming tresses bath'd in chilling dews,
And sad before her move the pensive hours,
Whose flagging wings no breathing sweets diffuse.
​Like some lone pilgrim, clad in mournful weed,
Whose wounded bosom drinks her falling tears,
On whose pale cheek relentless sorrows feed,
Whose dreary way no sprightly carol cheers.
Not thus she breath'd on Arno's purple shore,
And call'd the Tuscan Muses to her bowers;
Not this the robe in Enna's vale she wore,
When Ceres' daughter fill'd her lap with flowers.
Clouds behind clouds in long succession rise,
And heavy snows oppress the springing green;
The dazzling waste fatigues the aching eyes,
And fancy droops beneath th' unvaried scene.
Indulgent nature loose this frozen zone;
Thro' opening skies let genial sun-beams play;
Dissolving snows shail their glad impulse own,
And melt upon the bosom of the May.
# Poems (Blind)/On a Letter

* I.
* II.
# Poems (Seeger)/Translations/After an Epigram of Clement Marot

AFTER AN EPIGRAM OF CLEMENT MAROT
The lad I was I longer now Nor am nor shall be evermore. Spring's lovely blossoms from my brow Have shed their petals on the floor. Thou, Love, hast been my lord, thy shrine Above all gods' best served by me. Dear Love, could life again be mine How bettered should that service be!
# Poems (Seeger)/Last Poems/The Aisne (1914–15)

THE AISNE (1914-15)
We first saw fire on the tragic slopes Where the flood-tide of France's early gain, Big with wrecked promise and abandoned hopes, Broke in a surf of blood along the Aisne.
The charge her heroes left us, we assumed, What, dying, they reconquered, we preserved, In the chill trenches, harried, shelled, entombed, Winter came down on us, but no man swerved.
Winter came down on us. The low clouds, torn In the stark branches of the riven pines, Blurred the white rockets that from dusk till morn Traced the wide curve of the close-grappling lines.
In rain, and fog that on the withered hill Froze before dawn, the lurking foe drew down; Or light snows fell that made forlorner still The ravaged country and the ruined town;
Or the long clouds would end. Intensely fair, The winter constellations blazing forth— Perseus, the Twins, Orion, the Great Bear— Gleamed on our bayonets pointing to the north.
​And the lone sentinel would start and soar On wings of strong emotion as he knew That kinship with the stars that only War Is great enough to lift man's spirit to.
And ever down the curving front, aglow With the pale rockets' intermittent light, He heard, like distant thunder, growl and grow The rumble of far battles in the night,—
Rumors, reverberant, indistinct, remote, Borne from red fields whose martial names have won The power to thrill like a far trumpet-note,— Vic, Vailly, Soupir, Hurtebise, Craonne...
Craonne, before thy cannon-swept plateau, Where like sere leaves lay strewn September's dead, I found for all dear things I forfeited A recompense I would not now forego.
For that high fellowship was ours then With those who, championing another's good, More than dull Peace or its poor votaries could, Taught us the dignity of being men.
There we drained deeper the deep cup of life, And on sublimer summits came to learn, After soft things, the terrible and stern, After sweet Love, the majesty of Strife;
​There where we faced under those frowning heights The blast that maims, the hurricane that kills; There where the watchlights on the winter hills Flickered like balefire through inclement nights;
There where, firm links in the unyielding chain, Where fell the long-planned blow and fell in vain— Hearts worthy of the honor and the trial, We helped to hold the lines along the Aisne.
# Poems (Seeger)/Translations

TRANSLATIONS
# Poems (Seeger)/Last Poems/Resurgam

RESURGAM
Exiled afar from youth and happy love, If Death should ravish my fond spirit hence I have no doubt but, like a homing dove, It would return to its dear residence, And through a thousand stars find out the road Back into earthly flesh that was its loved abode.
# Poems (Seeger)/Translations/On a Theme in the Greek Anthology

Translation of Epigram 5.124 of the Greek Anthology.
ON A THEME IN THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY
Thy petals yet are closely curled, Rose of the world, Around their scented, golden core; Nor yet has Summer purpled o'er Thy tender clusters that begin To swell within The dewy vine-leaves' early screen Of sheltering green.
O hearts that are Love's helpless prey, While yet you may, Fly, ere the shaft is on the string! The fire that now is smouldering Shall be the conflagration soon Whose paths are strewn With torment of blanched lips and eyes That agonize.
# Poems (Seeger)/Last Poems/The Hosts

THE HOSTS
Purged, with the life they left, of all That makes life paltry and mean and small, In their new dedication charged With something heightened, enriched, enlarged, That lends a light to their lusty brows And a song to the rhythm of their tramping feet, These are the men that have taken vows, These are the hardy, the flower, the élite,— These are the men that are moved no more By the will to traffic and grasp and store And ring with pleasure and wealth and love The circles that self is the center of; But they are moved by the powers that force The sea forever to ebb and rise, That hold Arcturus in his course, And marshal at noon in tropic skies The clouds that tower on some snow-capped chain And drift out over the peopled plain. They are big with the beauty of cosmic things. Mark how their columns surge! They seem To follow the goddess with outspread wings That points toward Glory, the soldier's dream. With bayonets bare and flags unfurled, They scale the summits of the world And fade on the farthest golden height In fair horizons full of light.
​Comrades in arms there—friend or foe—
That trod the perilous, toilsome trail Through a world of ruin and blood and woe In the years of the great decision—hail! Friend or foe, it shall matter nought; This only matters, in fine: we fought. For we were young and in love or strife Sought exultation and craved excess: To sound the wildest debauch in life We staked our youth and its loveliness. Let idlers argue the right and wrong And weigh what merit our causes had. Putting our faith in being strong— Above the level of good and bad— For us, we battled and burned and killed Because evolving Nature willed, And it was our pride and boast to be The instruments of Destiny. There was a stately drama writ By the hand that peopled the earth and air And set the stars in the infinite And made night gorgeous and morning fair, And all that had sense to reason knew That bloody drama must be gone through. ​Some sat and watched how the action veered— Waited, profited, trembled, cheered— We saw not clearly nor understood, But, yielding ourselves to the masterhand, Each in his part as best he could, We played it through as the author planned.
# Poems (Emerson, 1847)/Forerunners

FORERUNNERS.
Long I followed happy guides, I could never reach their sides; Their step is forth, and, ere the day, Breaks up their leaguer, and away. Keen my sense, my heart was young, Right good-will my sinews strung, But no speed of mine avails To hunt upon their shining trails. On and away, their hasting feet Make the morning proud and sweet; Flowers they strew,—I catch the scent; Or tone of silver instrument Leaves on the wind melodious trace; Yet I could never see their face. On eastern hills I see their smokes, Mixed with mist by distant lochs. ​I met many travellers Who the road had surely kept; They saw not my fine revellers,— These had crossed them while they slept. Some had heard their fair report, In the country or the court. Fleetest couriers alive Never yet could once arrive, As they went or they returned, At the house where these sojourned. Sometimes their strong speed they slacken, Though they are not overtaken; In sleep their jubilant troop is near,— I tuneful voices overhear; It may be in wood or waste,— At unawares 'tis come and past. Their near camp my spirit knows By signs gracious as rainbows. I thenceforward, and long after, Listen for their harp-like laughter, And carry in my heart, for days, Peace that hallows rudest ways.
# Poems (Emerson, 1847)/Ghaselle

GHASELLE:
FROM THE PERSIAN OF HAFIZ.
Of Paradise, O hermit wise, Let us renounce the thought; Of old therein our names of sin Allah recorded not.
Who dear to God on earthly sod No corn-grain plants, The same is glad that life is had, Though corn he wants.
O just fakir, with brow austere, Forbid me not the vine; On the first day, poor Hafiz' clay Was kneaded up with wine.
​Thy mind the mosque and cool kiosk, Spare fast and orisons; Mine me allows the drinking-house, And sweet chase of the nuns.
He is no dervise, Heaven slights his service, Who shall refuse There in the banquet to pawn his blanket For Schiraz' juice.
Who his friend's skirt or hem of his shirt Shall spare to pledge, To him Eden's bliss and angel's kiss Shall want their edge.
Up! Hafiz, grace from high God's face Beams on thee pure; Shy thou not hell, and trust thou well, Heaven is secure.