OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Robber Bridegroom

* related portals: Brothers Grimm.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Commons category, Wikidata item.
English-language translations of Der Räuberbräutigam include:
* "The Robber-Bridegroom" (1826), translated by Edgar Taylor, in German Popular Stories
* "The Robber Bridegroom", translated by Lucy Crane, illustrated by Walter Crane, in Household stories from the collection of the Bros Grimm (1882)
* "The Robber Bridegroom", translated by Margaret Raine Hunt, in Grimm's Household Tales, Volume 1 (1884)
* "The Robber Bridegroom", translated by Alice Lucas, illustrated by Arthur Rackham, in The Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm (1909)
* "The Robber Bridegroom", translated by Marian Edwardes and Edgar Taylor, illustrated by Robert Anning Bell, in Grimm's Household Tales (1912)
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 Tablet/1953/Edwin J. O'Malley Dies at 69

Edwin Joseph O'Malley (1881-1953) in The Tablet on April 18, 1953.
Edwin J. O'Malley Dies at 69. Former Commissioner of Markets Edwin J. O'Malley, 69, father of Walter F. O'Malley, president and owner of the Dodgers, died Friday of last week at his home, 425 E. 72nd Street, Manhattan. A founder and director of the Grand St. Boys Club, he was formerly president of the Hollis Civic Association, and was last chief of the Hollis Volunteer Fire Department. Besides his son, he is survived by his second wife, Mrs. Constance Heath O'Malley; a grandson, Peter O'Malley, and a granddaughter, Terry O'Malley; five brothers and two sisters. His first wife, Mrs. Alma Feltner O'Malley, died in 1940. The Requiem Mass was offered in St. Malachy's Church, Manhattan, Tuesday, interment was in Charles Cemetery, Pinelawn.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was legally published within the United States (or the United Nations Headquarters in New York subject to Section 7 of the United States Headquarters Agreement) before 1964, and copyright was not renewed.
* For Class A renewal records (books only) published between 1923 and 1963, check the Stanford University Copyright Renewal Database.
* For other renewal records of publications between 1922–1950, see the University of Pennsylvania copyright records.
* For all records since 1978, search the U.S. Copyright Office records.
Works could have had their copyright renewed between January 1st of the 27th year after publication or registration and December 31st of the 28th year. As this work's copyright was not renewed, it entered the public domain on January 1st of the 29th year.
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.
It is imperative that contributors ascertain that there is no evidence of a copyright renewal before using this license. Failure to do so will result in the deletion of the work as a copyright violation.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Tablet

* related portals: Newspapers.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Wikidata item.
The The Tablet is a daily newspaper based in Brooklyn, New York City.----
Content exists for this periodical, though at this stage it is not specifically organised beyond a basic hierarchy.
The pages listed below are an automatically generated listing.
Special:PrefixIndex/The Tablet/
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was legally published within the United States (or the United Nations Headquarters in New York subject to Section 7 of the United States Headquarters Agreement) before 1964, and copyright was not renewed.
* For Class A renewal records (books only) published between 1923 and 1963, check the Stanford University Copyright Renewal Database.
* For other renewal records of publications between 1922–1950, see the University of Pennsylvania copyright records.
* For all records since 1978, search the U.S. Copyright Office records.
Works could have had their copyright renewed between January 1st of the 27th year after publication or registration and December 31st of the 28th year. As this work's copyright was not renewed, it entered the public domain on January 1st of the 29th year.
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.
It is imperative that contributors ascertain that there is no evidence of a copyright renewal before using this license. Failure to do so will result in the deletion of the work as a copyright violation.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Tailor-Made Girl

The
TAILOR-MADE
GIRL
* By
* Philip H. Welch
With Illustrations by
C. Jay Taylor
The Tailor Made Girl
* Her friends • • her fashions • • and her follies •
By Philip H. Welch
Illustrations by C. Jay Taylor
New York.Charles Scribner's Sons.1888.
Copyright, 1888, by
Charles Scribner's Sons
TROW'S
PRINTING AND BOOKBINDING COMPANY,
NEW YORK.
TABLE OF CONTENTS.
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 Romany Rye/Chapter XLVII

    Departure from Horncastle—Recruiting Sergeant—Kauloes and Lolloes.
Leaving Horncastle I bent my steps in the direction of the east. I walked at a brisk rate, and late in the evening reached a large town, situate at the entrance of an extensive firth, or arm of the sea, which prevented my farther progress eastward. Sleeping that night in the suburbs of the town, I departed early next morning in the direction of the south. A walk of about twenty miles brought me to another large town, situated on a river, where I again turned towards the east. At the end of the town I was accosted by a fiery-faced individual, somewhat under the middle size, dressed as a recruiting sergeant.
“Young man,” said the recruiting sergeant, “you are just the kind of person to serve the Honourable East India Company.”
“I had rather the Honourable Company should serve me,” said I.
“Of course, young man. Well, the Honourable East India Company shall serve you—that’s reasonable. Here, take this shilling; ’tis service-money. The Honourable Company engages to serve you, and you the Honourable Company; both parties shall be thus served; that’s just and reasonable.”
“And what must I do for the Company?”
“Only go to India; that’s all.”
“And what should I do in India?”
“Fight, my brave boy! fight, my youthful hero!”
“What kind of country is India?”
“The finest country in the world! Rivers, bigger than the Ouse. Hills, higher than anything near Spalding! Trees—you never saw such trees! Fruits—you never saw such fruits!”
“And the people—what kind of folk are they?”
“Pah! Kauloes—blacks—a set of rascals not worth regarding.”
“Kauloes!” said I; “blacks!”
“Yes,” said the recruiting sergeant; “and they call us lolloes, which, in their beastly gibberish, means red.”
“Lolloes!” said I; “reds!”
“Yes,” said the recruiting sergeant, “kauloes and lolloes; and all the lolloes have to do is to kick and cut down the kauloes, and take from them their rupees, which mean silver money. Why do you stare so?”
“Why,” said I, “this is the very language of Mr. Petulengro.”
“Mr. Pet—?”
“Yes,” said I, “and Tawno Chikno.”
“Tawno Chik—? I say, young fellow, I don’t like your way of speaking; no, nor your way of looking. You are mad, sir; you are mad; and what’s this? Why, your hair is grey! You won’t do for the Honourable Company—they like red. I’m glad I didn’t give you the shilling. Good day to you.”
“I shouldn’t wonder,” said I, as I proceeded rapidly along a broad causeway, in the direction of the east, “if Mr. Petulengro and Tawno Chikno came originally from India. I think I’ll go there.”
# The Tragedy of the Dutchesse of Malfy/Act III, scene iv

SCENA IIII.
Two Pilgrimes to the Shrine of our Lady of Loretto.
1.Pilg.
I have not seene a goodlier Shrine then this, Yet I have visited many.
2.Pilg.
The cardinall of Arragon Is, this day to resigne his Cardinals hat, His sister Duchesse likewise is arriv'd To pay her vow of Pilgrimage, I expect A noble Ceremony.
1.Pilg.
No question.——They come.
[Here the Ceremony of the Cardinalls enstalment, in the habit of a Souldier: perform'd in delivering up his Crosse, Hat, Robes, and Ring, at the Shrine; and investing him with Sword, Helmet, Sheild, and Spurs: then Antonio, the Duchesse, and
their Children, (having presented themselves at the Shrine)
are (by a forme of Banishment in dumbe-shew, expressed
towards them by the Cardinall, and the State of Ancona)
banished: During all which Ceremony, this Ditty is sung (to
very sollemne Musique) by divers Church-men, and then
Exeunt.
Armes, and Honors, decke thy story, To thy Fames eternall glory, Adverse Fortune ever flie-thee, No disastrous fate come nigh-thee.The Author disclaimes this Ditty to be his.
I alone will sing thy praises, Whom to honour, vertue raises; And thy study, that divine-is, Bent to Marshiall discipline-is: Lay aside all those robes lie by thee, Crown thy arts, with armes: they'll beautifie thee.
O worthy of worthiest name, adorn'd in this manner, Lead bravely thy forces on, under wars warlike banner: O mayst thou prove fortunate, in all Marshiall courses, Guide thou still, by skill, in artes, and forces: Victory attend thee nigh, whilst fame sings loud thy powres, Triumphant conquest crowne thy head, and blessings powre downe showres.
1.Pilg.
Here's a strange turne of state, who would have thought So great a Lady, would have match'd her selfe Unto so meane a person? yet the Cardinall Beares himselfe much too cruell.
2.Pilg.
They are banish'd.
1.Pilg.
But I would aske what power hath this state Of Ancona, to determine of a free Prince?
2.Pilg.
They are a free state sir, and her brother shew'd How that the Pope fore-hearing of her loosenesse, Hath seaz'd into th' protection of the Church The Dukedome, which she held as dowager.
1.Pilg.
But by what justice?
2.Pilg.
Sure I thinke by none, Only her brothers instigation.
1.Pilg.
What was it, with such violence he tooke Of from her finger?
2.Pilg.
'Twas her wedding ring,
Which he vow'd shortly he would sacrifice To his revenge.
1.Pilg. Alasse Antonio, If that a man be thrust into a well, No matter who sets hand to't, his owne weight Will bring him sooner to th' bottome: Come, let's hence. Fortune makes this conclusion generall, "All things do helpe th'unhappy man to fall.Exeunt.
Layout 2
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/His Face

HIS FACE
They tell you Lincoln was ungainly, plain? To some he seemed so: true. Yet in his look was charm to gain E'en such as I, who knew With how confirmed a will he tried To overthrow a cause for which I would have died.
The sun may shine with naught to shroud Its beam, yet show less bright Than when from out eclipsing cloud It pours its radiant light; And Lincoln, seen amid the shows of war Clothed in his sober black, was somehow felt the more
To be a centre and a soul of power,— An influence benign To kindle in a faithless hour New trust in the divine. Grave was his visage, but no cloud could dull The radiance from within that made it beautiful.
A prisoner, when I saw him first— Wounded and sick for home— ​His presence soothed my yearning's thirst While yet his lips were dumb; For such compassion as his countenance wore I had not seen nor felt in human face before.
And when, low-bending o'er his foe, He took in his firm hand My wasted one, I seemed to know We two were of one Land; And as my cheek flushed warm with young surprise, God's pity looked on me from Lincoln's sorrowing eyes.
His prisoner I was from then— Love makes surrender sure— And though I saw him not again, Some memories endure, And I am glad my untaught worship knew His the divinest face I ever looked into!
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/In a Tenement

IN A TENEMENT
I think our alley 's darker now Since once I went away— I can't exactly tell you how— In a strange place to play With other children like myself, A whole long summer's day!
It was n't really there, I 'm sure— That place so strange to me, For nobody was cold or poor: It just was green, and free, And up above there seemed of blue A million miles to be.
The fairies live there!—little Ruth The lame girl told me so: Yes; and I know it for a truth That there the fairies go, And cover over all the trees With flowers white as snow.
The flowers made in Fairyland Have breath—oh, breath that 's sweet! ​For once I held them in my hand— Far off from this dull street!— And looked down in their hearts and saw The tracks of fairy feet.
I dream at night of that strange place, And in my dream, quite near, They dance about before my face,— The fairies kind and dear; And, oh, I want to go to them! You see, they can't come here.
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/In Dreamland

IN DREAMLAND
In dreamland is a castle fair Wherein my love doth dwell: Its turrets waver into air From fields where asphodel And poppy keep not watch, but sleep, 'Neath an enchanter's spell.
Pale offspring of a starlit sky, One rose—for need like mine— Has over-climbed the ivies high, About her sill to twine, And there, abloom, with rare perfume Makes exquisite her shrine.
Still, night by night, the wondrous bird That ne'er is heard by day, Thrills, with my heart's unspoken word, Those mystic turrets gray, And heavened above, sings to my love His plaintive roundelay.
Ah, would that I, through tender gloom Upmounting, lover-wise, ​Might find her in the fragrant room,— Her virgin Paradise,— But for one night behold the light Beam in her charméd eyes!
Alas! I shall nor lead her down The steep and skyey stair, Nor find her here in the dull town, The sunlight on her hair,— Yet, could we meet, my heart would greet And know her anywhere!
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/In Loneliness—Iseult of Brittany

THE ORCHESTRAL LEADER
All eyes upon him centred, motionless, Yet tensely watchful, vividly aware, He stands an instant waiting. In the air His mystic wand, uplifted, seems to bless The Silence, while it calls to readiness Forces that overwhelming Silence there, Shall in its stead give Sound so sweet and rare As must its every parting pang redress.
Magician and enchanter, he doth hold In his fine hand tones, accents, manifold, Interpreting the gods to mortal men: His are the nerves that vitalize the rest; The central heart of all beats in his breast; Through him the very dead revive and speak again.
IN LONELINESS
ISEULT OF BRITTANY
They are at rest. How still it is—and cold! The morrow comes; the night is growing old. They are at rest. Why then, unresting, keep In vigil lone, a pain that will not sleep— An anguish, only to itself confessed, That hushed a moment lies, Then wakes to sudden eager life, and cries?
At rest?
Ah, me! The wind wails by, Like to a grief that would but cannot die. How sore the heart can ache, Yet beat and beat and beat, and never break!
Hearken!—was that a child's awaking cry?
It was the sea—the ever troubled sea! My little ones, it was the sea, That moans unceasingly, One dear refrain repeating o'er and o'er:— "Tristram returns no more—
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/In Modern Bonds

This poem was not included in Mrs. Coates' collected Poems (1916, in 2 vols.).
IN MODERN BONDS
Early and late, one day but as another, One night—one dreary night, like to its brother Silent and songless, empty of desire,— A numbness after unremitting tire,— So, in a vicious circle bound alway, From light to darkness and from night to day I move: a thing mechanical, I ween, As this my comrade here—this vast machine Which seems more of me than my blood and bone; Which more doth own me than my God doth own.
For what of difference is 'twixt it and me Lies in myself a vague and nameless sorrow, Baffling and barren as the flickering gleam Of starlight fallen on a frozen stream, Holding no ray of promise for a morrow Whose moments, as they come and go, must be— For one who welcomes nor the night nor morn, Whose weariness scarce knows itself forlorn— But portions of a dull, unwished eternity.
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/Father

FATHER
How should I dream but you were old Who seemed so strangely wise? The truth, had I the truth been told, Had filled me with surprise; But now that you are gone, alas! Beyond Death's voiceless sea, Still, as your birthdays come and pass, You younger grow to me.
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/For the Birthday of William Dean Howells

* related authors: William Dean Howells.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, quotes, Wikidata item.
This poem was not included in Mrs. Coates' collected Poems (1916, in 2 vols.).
FOR THE BIRTHDAY OF WILLIAM DEAN HOWELLS
March 1, 1912
Seventy-five glad years of blessing, And the hope of blessing more; Memories the heart caressing, Dreams that beckoning wait, before;
Life—full life, made rich by giving: Life that can create, and lend To the poor—delight in living, To the lonely—many a friend
Wisdom that can teach through laughter— Seeming but to entertain, Or through pathos which, thereafter, Leaves no dull, regretful pain;
Years of blessing, years of kindness, And the courage that can smile Though the eyes be dim to blindness With a sorrow, hid the while,—
These are thine, thou selfless schemer, Chanter of brave carmina: These thy gifts to us, dear dreamer,— Traveler from Altruria.
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/How Wonderful is Love!

HOW WONDERFUL IS LOVE!
How wonderful is love! More wonderful, I wis, Than cherry-blossoms are when spring's first kiss Warms the chill breast of earth, And gives new birth To beauty! High above All miracles—the miracle of love, Which by its own glad and triumphant power Brings life to flower. Oh, love is wonderful! More wonderful than is the dew-fed rose Whose petals half unclose, In welcome of the light, When first the Dawn comes robed in vesture cool Of fragrant, shimmering white!— More wonderful and strange Than moonrise, which doth change Dulness to glory— Yea, with a touch transforms the mountains hoary, And fills the darkling rills with living silver bright!
Not music when it wings From the far azure where the skylark sings Is wonderful as love!— ​Not music when it wells From the enchanted fairy-haunted dells Where, shrined mid thorn and vine— An ecstasy apart, Drawn from the life-blood of a yearning heart— The nightingale pours forth forever The rapture and the pain, that naught can sever, Of love which mortal is, yet knows itself divine!
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/Heimweh

Previously published in Harper's Bazar (September 1911). This poem was not included in Mrs. Coates' collected Poems (1916, in 2 vols.).
HEIMWEH
The birds returning seem so glad As from the South they come, They teach my heart, forlorn and sad, How distant is my home: O'er land and sea wild roaming free, They little understand— Glad nomads—that there is for me One home—one only Land!
And yonder dancing rivulet That merrily on doth go, Humming a tune I 'd fain forget, Adds something to my woe: Ah, had it but a thought for me 'T would either now be dumb, Or it would croon a melody Less dear to me at home!
Fond memories of days of yore!— My heart so hungereth, The smell of upland clover or The dew-wet violet's breath Might quickly fill it with delight; But exiled here I roam, And dread, beyond all else, to-night, The scents that speak of home!
# The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912)/Immortal

IMMORTAL
How living are the dead! Enshrined, but not apart, How safe within the heart We hold them still—our dead, Whatever else be fled!
Our constancy is deep Toward those who lie asleep, Forgetful of the strain and mortal strife That are so large a part of this our earthly life.
They are our very own: From them—from them alone, Nothing can us estrange— Nor blight autumnal, no; nor wintry change!
The midnight moments keep A place for them; and though we wake to weep, They are beside us: still, in joy, in pain— In every crucial hour, they come again, Angelic from above— Bearing the gifts of blessing and of love— Until the shadowy path they lonely trod Becomes for us a bridge that upward leads to God.
# The Tomb of Edgar Poe

As to Himself at last eternity changes him The Poet reawakens with a naked sword His century appalled at never having heard That in this voice a triumphant death had sung its hymn.
They, like a writhing hydra, hearing seraphim Bestow a purer sense on the language of the horde, Loudly proclaimed that the magic potion had been poured From the dregs of some dishonored mixture of foul slime.
From the war between Earth and Heaven, what grief! If understanding cannot sculpt a bas-relief To ornament the dazzling tomb of Poe:
Calm block here fallen from obscure disaster, Let this granite at least mark the boundaries evermore To the dark flights of blasphemy hurled to the future.
# The Token

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
SEND me some tokens, that my hope may live Or that my easeless thoughts may sleep and rest; Send me some honey, to make sweet my hive, That in my passions I may hope the best. I beg nor ribbon wrought with thine own hands, To knit our loves in the fantastic strain Of new-touch'd youth; nor ring to show the stands Of our affection, that, as that's round and plain, So should our loves meet in simplicity; No, nor the corals, which thy wrist enfold, Laced up together in congruity, To show our thoughts should rest in the same hold; No, nor thy picture, though most gracious, And most desired, 'cause 'tis like the best Nor witty lines, which are most copious, Within the writings which thou hast address'd. Send me nor this nor that, to increase my score, But swear thou think'st I love thee, and no more.
# The Toll-gatherer's Day

published in Twice-Told Tales
# The Tomb of Madame Langhans

* The Tomb of Madame Langhans, in Friendship's Offering, 1827.
* The Tomb of Madame Langhans, in Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems (Songs of the Affections), 1830.
# The Tombs of Platæa

* The Tombs of Platæa, in The Edinburgh Magazine And Literary Miscellany Volume 11, 1822.
* The Tombs of Platæa, in The Siege of Valencia; The Last Constantine: with Other Poems, 1823.
# The Tomb said to the Rose

"The tomb said to the rose"
* Coates, Florence Earle (1912), "The Tomb Said to the Rose—After the French of Victor Hugo" in The Unconquered Air, and Other Poems (1912).
* Coates, Florence Earle (1916), "The Tomb said to the Rose" in Poems II.
# The Tom-Tit and the Bear (Grimm/Taylor and Jardine)

* "The Tom-Tit and the Bear" in German Popular Stories (1823) (transcription project)
* "The Tom-Tit and the Bear" in Grimm's Goblins (1876) (transcription project)
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Second Jungle Book/A Ripple Song

A RIPPLE SONG
# The Second Jungle Book/A Song of Kabir

A SONG OF KABIR
# The Second Jungle Book

The Second Jungle Book is a sequel to The Jungle Book by Rudyard Kipling. First published in 1895, it features five stories about Mowgli and three unrelated stories ["The Miracle of Purun Bhagat", "The Undertakers" and "Quiquern"], all but one set in India, most of which Kipling wrote while living in Vermont. All of the stories were previously published in magazines in 1894-5, often under different titles. The book is less well-known than the original.
    Warning: template has been deprecated.
THE SECOND JUNGLE BOOK
THE
SECOND JUNGLE BOOK
By RUDYARD KIPLING
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
J. LOCKWOOD KIPLING, C.I.E.
LONDON MACMILLAN AND CO. AND NEW YORK 1895
⟨All rights reserved.⟩
CONTENTS
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 1936, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 87 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