OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Collected Works of Ambrose Bierce/Volume 3/The Ways of Ghosts

THE WAYS OF GHOSTS
​My peculiar relation to the writer of the following narratives is such that I must ask the reader to overlook the absence of explanation as to how they came into my possession. Withal, my knowledge of him is so meager that I should rather not undertake to say if he were himself persuaded of the truth of what he relates; certainly such inquiries as I have thought it worth while to set about have not in every instance tended to confirmation of the statements made. Yet his style, for the most part devoid alike of artifice and art, almost baldly simple and direct, seems hardly compatible with the disingenuousness of a merely literary intention; one would call it the manner of one more concerned for the fruits of research than for the flowers of expression. In transcribing his notes and fortifying their claim to attention by giving them something of an orderly arrangement, I have conscientiously refrained from embellishing them with such small ornaments of diction as I may have felt myself able to bestow, which would not only have been impertinent, even if pleasing, but would have given me a somewhat closer relation to the work than I should care to have and to avow.—A. B.
# The Baby's Opera (1900)/The Mulberry Bush

Here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush; Here we go round the mulberry bush, All on a frosty morning.
This is the way we clap our hands, This is the way we clap our hands, This is the way we clap our hands, All on a frosty morning.
# The Baby's Opera (1900)/There was a Lady Loved a Swine

·THERE·WAS· ·A·LADY·LOVED· ·A·SWINE·
1.There was a lady loved a swine, "Honey!" said she; "Pig-hog, wilt thou be mine?" "Hunc!" said he.
2."I'll build thee a silver sty, Honey!" said she; "And in it thou shalt lie!" "Hunc!" said he.
3."Pinned with a silver pin, Honey!" said she; "That thou mayest go out and in," "Hunc!" said he.
4."Wilt thou have me now, Honey?" said she; "Speak, or my heart will break," "Hunc!" said he.
# The Baby's Opera (1900)/The Song of Sixpence

Y$^e$ SONG·oF··SIXPENCE·
1.Sing a song of sixpence, a pocket full of rye; Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie; When the pie was open the birds began to sing, Wasn't that a dainty dish to set before the king?
2.The king was in his counting-house counting out his money The queen was in the parlour eating bread and honey; The maid was in the garden hanging out her clothes, When up came a blackbird and pecked off her nose.
# The Baby's Opera (1900)/Tom, the Piper's Son

Tom, Tom, the piper's son, Stole a pig and away did run; The pig was eat, and Tom was beat, And Tom went roaring down the street.
# The Baby's Opera (1900)/Warm Hands

·WARM·HANDS·
Warm hands, warm, the men are gone to plough; If you want to warm your hands, warm your hands now.
# The Baby on the Shore

* information about this edition.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
The sun was shining brightly, Yes, shining as it never shone before; We were thinking of the old folks at home, And we left the baby on the shore. Yes, we left the baby on the shore, A thing which we've never done before; Oh, way down the old Swannee river, You will find the baby on the shore. We are leaving, leaving now for ever, A thing which we've never done before; If you see the mother tell her gently, She will find her baby on the shore. .......
In the far, far west the sun was setting, Yes, setting as it never set before; We were thinking of the old folks at home, And we found the baby on the shore. Yes, we found the baby on the shore, A thing which we've never done before; So, get the pipes and whiskey ready, And we'll feed the baby on the shore. Yes, we'll feed the baby on the shore, A thing which we've never done before; Oh, way down the old Swannee river, We will feed the baby on the shore. .......
The moon was slowly rising, Yes, rising as it never rose before; We were feeling weary, very weary, And we sat upon the baby on the shore. Yes, we sat upon the baby on the shore, A thing which we've never done before; If you see the mother, tell her gently, That we sat upon her baby on the shore. The baby's qui-et-ly sleeping, A thing which it never did before; So, after all it is better To leave the baby on the shore. .......
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 Baby's Opera (1900)/The Jolly Miller

Y$^e$ JOLLY MILLER
There was a jolly miller once Lived on the river Dee; He worked and sang from morn till night, No lark more blither than he. And this the burden of his song For ever used to be, "I care for nobody, no, not I, And nobody cares for me."
# The Baby's Opera (1900)/The Ploughboy in Luck

·THE·PLOVGH·BOY·IN·LVCK·
1.My daddy is dead, but I can't tell you how; He left me six horses to follow the plough:
With my whim wham waddle ho! Strim stram straddle ho! Bubble ho! pretty boy, over the brow.
2.I sold my six horses to buy me a cow; And wasn't that a pretty thing to follow the plough? With my, &c.
3.I sold my cow to buy me a calf, For I never made a bargain but I lost the best half. With my, &c.
4.I sold my calf to buy me a cat, To sit down before the fire to warm her little back. With my, &c.
5.I sold my cat to buy me a mouse. But she took fire in her tail and so burnt up my house. With my, &c.
# The Baby's Opera (1900)/Three Blind Mice

·THREE·BLIND·MICE·
Three blind mice, See how they run! They all ran after the farmer's wife, Who cut off their tails with a carving knife; Did ever you hear such a thing in your life? Three blind mice.
# The Baby's Opera (1900)/Three Children

·THREE·CHILDREN·
1.Three children sliding on the ice, All on a summer's day, As it fell out, they all fell in, The rest they ran away.
2.Now, had these children been at home, Or sliding on dry ground, Ten thousand pounds to one penny, They had not all been drowned.
3.You parents all that children have, And you that have got none, If you would have them safe abroad, Pray keep them safe at home.
# The Carrion Crow

Roud: 891
* "A" in The Alphabet of Old Friends by Walter Crane (1874)
* "The Carrion Crow" in A Book of Nursery Songs and Rhymes by Sabine Baring-Gould (1895)
* "The Tailor and the Crow", illustrated by L. Leslie Brooke (1911) (start transcription)
* "A Carrion-Crow sat on an Oak" in The Nursery Rhymes of Mother Goose by Arthur Rackham (St. Nicholas, Jan. 1913)
# The Carroll

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
75 U.S. 302
The Carroll
THIS was a case of collision between the schooner Loon and the steamer Carroll, which occurred on the waters of Chesapeake Bay. The collision happened about two o'clock at night; the night was bright, and the weight of the testimony was, that each vessel was provided with the necessary lookouts and lights. The schooner was in her proper course down the bay to James River, in Virginia, while the steamer was on her way from New York to the port of Baltimore, which the schooner had left the previous afternoon; and it was certain that the lookout of the steamer saw the schooner at least fifteen minutes before the accident happened. There was no dispute about the state of the wind nor of the respective speed of the boats; and that there was fault by one vessel or the other, was conceded by both parties. The officers of the steamer charged the fault to the schooner, because at the moment before the collision she changed her course, while those in command of the schooner asserted that this change of course was taken to avoid a greater danger, and only made when a collision was inevitable, and that if the officers of the steamer had been attentive to their duty the misfortune could have been averted. The only question was, therefore, which vessel was in fault? The witnesses on the part of the schooner were her captain, one Edmonson, and two common seamen, Travis and Henry. The chief ones for the steamer, were Ashcom, her mate, and one Jordan, her lookout. The testimony of all these witnesses was given at length, and went chiefly to questions of the exact times when particular manoeuvres were ordered or resorted to, and of the distances of the respective vessels at those times. Going thus to questions of fact merely, no sufficient advantage would be gained by setting it out; more particularly since the important parts of it on both sides are so largely recapitulated in the opinion of the court, as to make sufficiently intelligible the principles of law meant to be established by the judgment.
The evidence in the case was limited in extent, and not as contradictory as the evidence generally is where vessels collide. As usual, the effort of each boat was to relieve itself, and cast the blame on the other; but there was no good reason to think that any witness had intentionally sworn falsely.
The court below decided in favor of the schooner, and the owners of the steamer appealed.
The case was ably argued in this court, on the evidence and law, by Mr. J. H. Latrobe, for the appellant, and by Messrs. Schley and Waters, contra:
Mr. Justice DAVIS delivered the opinion of the court.

## Notes

This work is in the public domain in the United States because it is a work of the United States federal government (see 17 U.S.C. 105).
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# The Cascades

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 Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter/A Little Dog

From The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter (1907).
A LITTLE DOG
A little dog disturbed my trust in Heaven. I praised most faithfully All the great things that be, Man's pain and pleasure even; I said though hard this weighing Of pains and tears and praying, He will reward most just.
I said your bitter weeping, man or maid, Your tears or laughter, Shall gain a just Hereafter; Meet you the will of God then unafraid, Gird you to your trials, for God's abode Is open for all sorrow; Live for the great to-morrow. There passed me on the road
A little dog with hungry eyes, and sad Thin flesh all shivering, All sore and quivering. Whining beneath the fell disease he had I hurried home and praised God as before For thus affording To man rewarding, The dog was whining outside my door.
I flung it wide, and said, Come enter in. Outcast of God. Beneath His rod You suffer sore, poor beast, that had no sin.
Not at my door then must you cry complaining Your lot unjust. But His who thrust You from His door, your body maiming.
Not mine the pleasure that you bear this pain. Hurled into being Without hope of freeing By grief and patience a soul for any gain. Thus I reproached God while I tended The sores to healing. A voice stealing And whispering out of the beast I friended,
Said, “God had quickened my flesh, bestowing Joys without measure, Made for its pleasure, An Eden's garden for ever glowing. Gave me to Man, his care and protection To gain and to give, And bid us so live In united bonds of help and affection.
“Man wrecked our garden, so we were hurled Out from the skies Of Paradise Into the sorrows of a weeping world He forgets my care; I, as God has said, Give still afiEection For that connection Which into all our bodies life has breathed.
“And why are you abusing God, and praising With mock effacement And false abasement Your own heart's kindness, deeming it amazing That you should do this duty for my sake,
Which is His bidding, Nor blame for ridding Himself of me, your neighbour, he who spake hard words. Hard words and drove me forth all sore and ill?"
Thus while I tended This dog I friended Gave back my faith in Heaven by God's will.
# The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter/A Lost Flower

From The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter (1907).
A LOST FLOWER
Droop all the flowers in my garden,
All their fair heads hang low;
For rose, their fairest companion,
Never again will they know.
Bring me no flowers for wearing,
Take these strange buds away,
For I cannot now have the fairest—
My rose that has died to-day.   What has blighted my blossom?
Stricken it down with death.
Over the walls of my garden,
What, save the world's cold breath?
Then bring me no flowers for wearing.
Take these strange buds away,
Since I cannot now have the sweetest—
My rose that has died to-day.
# The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter/A New Year

From The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter (1907).
A NEW YEAR
Behold! a new white world! The falling snow Has cloaked the last old year And bid him go.
To-morrow! cries the oak To his lone heart, My sealed buds shall fling Their leaves apart.
To-morrow! pipes the thrush, And once again How sweet the nest that long Was full of rain.
To-morrow! bleats the sheep, And one by one My little lambs shall play Beneath the sun.
For us, too, let some fair To-morrow be, O Thou who weavest threads Of Destiny!
Thou wast a babe on that Far Christmas Day, Let us as children go Upon Thy way.
So that our hearts grown cold 'Neath time and pain, With young sweet faith may bloom All green again;
That empty promises Of passing years Spring into life, and not Repenting tears;
So that our deeds upon The earth may go, As innocent as lambs, And pure as snow.
# The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter/A Meadow Tragedy

From The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter (1907).
A MEADOW TRAGEDY
Here's a meadow full of sonshine Ripe grasses lush and high; There's a reaper on the roadway, And a lark hangs in the sky.
There's a nest of love enclosing Three little beaks that cry; The reaper's in the meadow And a lark hangs in the sky.
Here's a mead all full of summer, And tragedy goes by With a knife amongst the grasses, And a song up in the sky.
# The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter/A Recompense

From The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter (1907).
A RECOMPENSE
I raised my hands against my fate, I struck her frowning brows between; “I will be good, I will be great, No matter what has been.
“What care I if before my time Dead men their passions left to me? Can I not tune my life to rhyme From discord played by thee?”
She struck my pencil from my grasp, And here my first ambition ends. How bitterly the loss unmans! She had so many friends.
Love saw my battle and was glad; For love's sweet sake I struggled on, Till love grew tired loving, then I cursed the sun that shone.
“I'll strive no more against my fate,” I said, “I will give up, go down”— But friendship caught my idle hands And would not let me drown.
For friendship's sake I tried once more, Till love stole friendship from my side; I cursed the friend that gained the boon That was to me denied.
The hound that followed at my heel Looked up with eyes so full of love I kissed the curly brows between And blessed the God above.
# The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter/A Summer's Day

From The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter (1907).
A SUMMER'S DAY
Well, love, so be it as you say, Just the hours of a summer's day, And no sighing for what comes after, Whether it be tears or laughter.
Take my hand, and we go together Into love's land of golden weather. You to be king and I for queen; Right royally to reign, I ween.
Cool amber wine in cups of gold Bring maids, in rosy fingers' hold. Lip-pledged, but, you'll say ere your drinking, My loss were sweeter to your thinking.
And youths shall rob the spring for me Of all the perfumed flowers that be; I'll seek your eyes, and they refusing, I'll answer only at your choosing.
So, love, your hand, and we away. Just the hours of a summer's day, And no weeping for what comes after— If it be tears, we've had our laughter.
# The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter/A Vagrant Heart

From The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter (1907).
A VAGRANT HEART
O to be a woman! to be left to pique and pine, When the winds are out and calling to this vagrant heart of mine. Whisht! it whistles at the windows, and how can I be still? There! the last leaves of the beech-tree go dancing down the hill. All the boats at anchor they are plunging to be free— O to be a sailor, and away across the sea! When the sky is black with thunder, and the sea is white with foam, The grey gulls whirl up shrieking and seek their rocky home. Low his boat is lying leeward, how she runs upon the gale. As she rises with the billows, nor shakes her dripping sail. There is danger on the waters—there is joy where dangers be— Alas! to be a woman and the nomad's heart in me.
Ochone! to be a woman, only sighing on the shore— With a soul that finds a passion for each long breaker's roar, With a heart that beats as restless as all the winds that blow— Thrust a cloth between her fingers, and tell her she must sew;
Must join in empty chatter, and calculate with straws— For the weighing of our neighbour—for the sake of social laws. O chatter, chatter, chatter, when to speak is misery, When silence lies around your heart—and night is on the sea. So tired of little fashions that are root of all our strife, Of all the petty passions that upset the calm of life. The law of God upon the land shines steady for all time; The laws confused that man has made, have reason not nor rhyme.
O bird that fights the heavens, and is blown beyond the shore, Would you leave your flight and danger for a cage to fight no more? No more the cold of winter, or the hunger of the snow, Nor the winds that blow you backward from the path you wish to go? Would you leave your world of passion for a home that knows no riot? Would I change my vagrant longings for a heart more full of quiet? No!—for all its dangers, there is joy in danger too: On, bird, and fight your tempests, and this nomad heart with you!
The seas that shake and thunder will close our mouths one day, The storms that shriek and whistle will blow our breaths away. The dust that flies and whitens will mark not where we trod. What matters then our judging? we are face to face with God.
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Worn Out

WORN OUT
You bid me hold my peace  And dry my fruitless tears, Forgetting that I bear  A pain beyond my years.
You say that I should smile  And drive the gloom away; I would, but sun and smiles  Have left my life's dark day.
All time seems cold and void,  And naught but tears remain; Life's music beats for me  A melancholy strain.
I used at first to hope,  But hope is past and, gone; And now without a ray  My cheerless life drags on.
Like to an ash-stained hearth  When all its fires are spent; Like to an autumn wood  By storm winds rudely shent,—
So sadly goes my heart,  Unclothed of hope and peace; It asks not joy again,  But only seeks release.
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 Richard Barnfield/Cynthia/Dedication

​To the Right Honorable, and most noble-minded Lorde, William Stanley, Earle of Darby, &c.
Right Honorable, the dutifull affection I beare to your manie vertues, is cause, that to manifest my loue to your Lordship, I am constrained to shew my simplenes to the world. Many are they that admire your worth, of the which number, I (though the meanest in abilitie, yet with the formost in affection) am one that most desire to serue, and onely to serue your Honour.
Small is the gift, but great is my good-will; the which, by how much the lesse I am able to expresse it, by so much the more it is infinite. Liue long: and inherit your Predecessors vertues, as you doe their dignitie and estate. This is my wish: the which your honorable excellent giftes doe promise me to obtaine: and whereof these few rude and vnpollished lines, are a true (though an vndeseruing) testimony. If my ability were better, the signes should be greater; but being as it is, your honour must take me as I am, not as I should be. My yeares being so young, my perfection cannot be great: But howsoeuer it is, yours it is; and I myselfe am yours; in all humble seruice, most ready to be commaunded.
Richard Barnefeilde.
# The Complete Poems of Richard Barnfield/Cynthia/Sonnet 3

III.
The Stoicks thinke, (and they come neare the truth,) That vertue is the chiefest good of all, The Academicks on Idea call. The Epicures in pleasure spend their youth, The Perrepatetickes iudge felicitie, To be the chiefest good aboue all other, One man, thinks this; & that conceaues another: So that in one thing very few agree. Let Stoicks haue their Vertue if they will, And all the rest their chiefe-supposed good, Let cruel Martialists delight in blood, And Mysers ioy their bags with gold to fill: My chiefest good, my chiefe felicity, Is to be gazing on my loues faire eie.
# The Complete Poems of Richard Barnfield

NORBURY MANOR. From "Plot's Staffordshire," 1686.
THE
COMPLETE POEMS
OF
RICHARD BARNFIELD.
EDITED, WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES, BY THE REV. ALEXANDER B. GROSART,
ST. GEORGE'S, BLACKBURN, LANCASHIRE.
PRINTED FOR THE
Roxburghe Club.
LONDON: J. B. NICHOLS AND SONS, 25, PARLIAMENT STREET.
MDCCCLXXVI.
COMPLETE POEMS OF
RICHARD BARNFIELD.
Roxburghe Club.
* The Roxburghe Club
* Catalogue
* Preface
* Introduction
* Appendix
* I. The Affectionate Shepheard
* II. and III. Cynthia, with certaine Sonnets and the Legend of Cassandra
* IV. Lady Pecunia, The Complainte of Poetry, The Combat &c, Poems
** The Encomion of Lady Pecunia
** The Complaint of Poetrie
** The Combat betweene Conscience and Couetousnesse
** Poems: in divers humors
* V. From England's Helicon
* VI. From a MS. in the Possession of Sir Charles H. Isham
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 Richard Barnfield/Cynthia

II. CYNTHIA, WITH CERTAINE SONNETS AND THE LEGEND OF CASSANDRA. 1595.
Note.—As in "The Affectionate Shepheard," the original title-page of "Cynthia," &c., is reproduced in fac-simile opposite. The Beldornie reprint is so much waste paper from its multiplied blunders. The copy from which our text is taken is in the Bodleian.—G.
CYNTHIA.
WITH CERTAINE SONNETS, AND THE LEGEND OF CASSANDRA.
Quo cupio nequeo.
At London, Printed for Humfrey Lownes, and are to bee sold at the West doore of Pavles. 1595.
* Dedication
* To the curteous Gentlemen Readers
* T. T. in commendation of the Author, his Works
* To his Mistresse
* Cynthia
* Sonnet 1
* Sonnet 2
* Sonnet 3
* Sonnet 4
* Sonnet 5
* Sonnet 6
* Sonnet 7
* Sonnet 8
* Sonnet 9
* Sonnet 10
* Sonnet 11
* Sonnet 12
* Sonnet 13
* Sonnet 14
* Sonnet 15
* Sonnet 16
* Sonnet 17
* Sonnet 18
* Sonnet 19
* Sonnet 20
* An Ode
* Cassandra
# The Complete Poems of Richard Barnfield/Cynthia/Sonnet 2

II.
Beauty and Maiesty are falne at ods, Th' one claimes his cheeke, the other claimes his chin; Then Vertue comes, and puts her title in. (Quoth she) I make him like th' immortall Gods. (Quoth Maiestie) I owne his lookes, his Brow, His lips (quoth Loue), his eies, his faire is mine. And yet (quoth Maiesty) he is not thine, I mixe Disdaine with Loue's congealed Snow. I, but (quoth Loue) his lockes are mine (by right), His stately gate is mine (quoth Maiestie), And mine (quoth Vertue) is his Modestie. Thus as they striue about the heauenly wight, At last the other two to Vertue yeeld The lists of Loue, fought in faire Beauties field.
# The Complete Poems of Richard Barnfield/Cynthia/Sonnet 4

III
Two stars there are in one faire firmament (Of some intitled Ganymedes sweet face), Which other stars in brightnes doe disgrace, As much as Po in clearenes passeth Trent. Nor are they common natur'd stars; for why, These stars whē other shine vaile their pure light, And when all other vanish out of sight, They adde a glory to the worlds great eie: By these two stars my life is only led, In them I place my ioy, in them my pleasure, Loue's piercing Darts, & Natures precious treasure With their sweet foode my fainting soule is fed: Then when my sunne is absent from my sight How can it chuse (with me) but be darke night?