OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/One Hour of Love With You

From the revue Hanky-Panky (1917).
78—ONE HOUR OF LOVE WITH YOU (Hanky-Panky)
I'd give the sun-shine to gaze in your eyes, I'd give the stars from the brightest of skies, I'd give the song of the bird on the tree, For that to me is love's melody. I'd give the flow'rs from the fairest of bow'rs If only you, dear, were true, I'd give the joys of the whole wide world For one hour of love with you.
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Rebecca from Sunnybrook Farm

40—REBECCA FROM SUNNYBROOK FARM
When you're going to the farm, with your rifle on your arm Take it from me, you'd better watch old Fritz or he Will send a whiz-bang there, stealing softly through the air, The memory haunts you, the lobster wants you, Keep away from Zillebeke, dear old Zillebeke, away from Zillebeke Farm.
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Nearer, My God, to Thee

153—NEARER, MY GOD, TO THEE
Nearer, my God, to Thee! nearer to Thee! E'en though it be a cross that raiseth me, Still all my song shall be— Nearer, my God, to Thee! Nearer, to Thee!
Though, like the wanderer, the sun gone down, Darkness be over me, my rest a stone, Yet in my dreams I'd be Nearer, my God ,to Thee! Nearer to Thee!
There let the way appear steps unto heav'n; All that Thou sendest me in mercy given: Angels to beckon me Nearer, my God, to Thee! Nearer to Thee!
​Then with my waking thoughts bright with Thy praise, Out of my stony griefs Bethel I'll raise: So by my woes to be Nearer, my God, to Thee! Nearer to Thee!
Or if on joyful wing cleaving the sky, Sun, moon, and stars forgot, upward I fly, Still all my song shall be— Nearer, my God, to Thee Nearer to Thee!
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Oh! How She Could Yacki-Wicki-Woo

Published 1916; music by Albert Von Tilzer
117—OH! HOW SHE COULD YACKI-WICKI-WOO
She had a Hu-la-hu-la-hick-i-boo-la-boo-la in her walk, She has a U-ka-le-le-wick-i-wick-i-wail-i-in her talk, And by the big Hawaiian moon,—Beneath a ban-yan tree we'd spoon. I've been tryin' to learn "Hawaiian," Since that night in June. She had a blinky, blinky little naughty winky in her eye She had a "Come and kiss me, don't you dare to miss me," in her sigh. Beneath the ban-yan parasol—She couldn't talk my talk at all But, oh, how she could Yack-i-hack-i-wick-i-wack-i-woo, That's love in Hon-o-lu.
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Old Folks at Home

125—OLD FOLKS AT HOME
All the world are sad and weary, every where I roam, Oh! darkies how my heart grows weary, Far from the old folks at home.
# The Botany of the Antarctic Voyage/Plate LII

Hierochloe Brunonis Hook. fil.
# The Botany of the Antarctic Voyage/Plate LV

Festuca foliosa Hook. fil.
# The Botany of the Antarctic Voyage/Plate LI

Uncinia Hookeri Booth
# The Botany of the Antarctic Voyage/Plate LVI

Catabrosa antarctica Hook. fil.
# The Botany of the Antarctic Voyage/Plate LIII

Agrostis subulata Hook. fil.
# The Botany of the Antarctic Voyage/Plate LIV

Bromus antarcticus Hook. fil.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Why do ye tarry

Why do ye tarry.
[Alexander Hume.—Here first printed.]
Why do ye tarry, Bonnie ship Mary? Why do ye linger so far far frae me? Winds, will ye waken? Ne'er your breath slacken, But O, breathe kindly, my love's on the sea.
If o' her nature You had a feature, Ne'er could you harm the frail barque on the sea; Not even find weather To ruffle a feather Of the poor sea bird, so gentle is she!
But if you'll not send My dear love to land, O, bear this kiss hence in swiftness with thee; Whisper not to her Who is the wooer, She'll know by the kiss, that the kiss comes from me.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Why hangs that cloud

Why hangs that cloud.
[Hamilton of Bangour.—This is published in the Orpheus Caledonius, 1725, adapted to the old air called "Hallowe'en."]
Why hangs that cloud upon thy brow, That beauteous heav'n erewhile serene? Whence do these storms and tempests blow? Or what this gust of passion mean? And must then mankind lose that light Which in thine eyes was wont to shine, And lie obscur'd in endless night, For each poor silly speech of mine?
Dear child, how could I wrong thy name? Thy form so fair and faultless stands, That could ill tongues abuse thy fame, Thy beauty would make large amends! Or if I durst profanely try Thy beauty's powerful charms t' upbraid, Thy virtue well might give the lie, Nor call thy beauty to its aid.
For Venus ev'ry heart ensnare, With all her charms has deck'd thy face, And Pallas with unusual care, Bids wisdom heighten every grace. Who can the double pain endure? Or who must not resign the field To thee, celestial maid, secure With Cupid's bow and Pallas' shield?
If then to thee such power is giv'n, Let not a wretch in torment live, But smile, and learn to copy heav'n, Since we must sin ere it forgive. Yet pitying heav'n not only does Forgive th' offender and th' offence, But even itself appeas'd bestows As the reward of penitence.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Whistle o'er the lave o't

Whistle o’er the lave o’t.
[The popular tune called "Whistle o'er the lave o't" was composed about 1720, by John Bruce, a musician belonging to Dumfries. The old words are unfit for publication. The following was written by Burns for Johnson's Museum.]
First when Maggie was my care, Heaven, I thought, was in her air; Now we're married—speir nae mair; But whistle o'er the lave o't. Meg was meek and Meg was mild, Sweet and harmless as a child; Wiser men than me's beguiled; Sae, whistle o'er the lave o't.
How we live, my Meg and me, How we love, and how we gree, I carena by how few may see; Sae, whistle o'er the lave o't. Wha I wish were maggots' meat, Dished up in her winding-sheet, I could write—but Meg maun see't; Sae, whistle o'er the lave o't.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Wifie, come hame

Wifie, come hame.
[James Ballantine.— From "The Gaberlunzie's Wallet," a beautifully illustrated work, published at Edinburgh, in which are interspersed many poetical pieces replete with genuine Scottish humour and pathos.]
Wifie, come hame, My couthie wee dame; O but ye're far awa', Wifie, come hame. Come wi' the young bloom o' morn on thy brow, Come wi' the lowwn star o' love in thine e'e, Come wi' the red cherries ripe on thy mou', A' glist' wi' balm, like the dew on the lea; Come wi' the gowd tassels fringing thy hair, Come wi' thy rose cheeks a' dimpled wi' glee, Come wi' thy wee step, and wifie-like air, O quickly come, and shed blessings on me.
Wifie, come hame, My couthie wee dame; O my heart wearies sair, Wifie, come hame. Come wi' our love pledge, our dear little dawtie, Clasping my neck round, an' clambering my knee; Come let me nestle and press the wee pettie, Gazing on ilka sweet feature o' thee: O but the house is a cauld hame without ye, Lanely and eerie's the life that I dree; O come awa' an' I'll dance round about ye, Ye'll ne'er again win frae my arms till I dee
# The Book of Scottish Song/Wifie and me

Wifie and me.
[J. G. Cumming.]
Oh, cozzy, cozzy i' the neuk, My wifie sits wi' me; We heedna winter's surly look, Nor hoo the minits flee; But happy by each ithers side, The ingle bleezin' bricht, Her wee bit tongie's winnin' wile Mak's short the langest nicht.
For wifie is as sweet as morn, An' blythe as day her e'e, An' fairest flower upo' the thorn Is na mair fair than she. Her bozy's whiter than the snaw, An' kinder than the doo, Her cheeks are redder than the haw, An' sweeter far her mou'.
Syne what mair need a body want; Has earth ocht mair tae gi'e? A bein wee wife's the bliss o' life— Is bliss eneuch for me. Sae, when declinin' years come on, We'll totter down the brae; Happy to think o' years by gane, Content to heaven we'll gae.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Willie's drowned in Yarrow

Willie’s drowned in Yarrow.
[This is a fragment of a very old and pathetic song.]
Doun in yon garden sweet and gay, Where bonnie grows the lilie, I heard a fair maid, sighing, say, "My wish be wi' sweet Willie!
O Willie's rare, and Willie's fair, And Willie's wondrous bonnie; And Willie hecht to marry me, Gin e'er he married ony.
But Willie's gone, whom I thought on, And does not hear me weeping: Draws many a tear frae true love's e'e, When other maids are sleeping.
Yestreen I made my bed fu' braid, The nicht I'll mak' it narrow, For, a' the live-lang winter nicht, I lie twined o' my marrow.
Oh gentle wind, that bloweth south, From where my love repaireth, Convey a kiss frae his deir mouth, And tell me how he fareth!
O tell sweit Willie to come doun, And bid him no be cruel; And tell him no to break the heart Of his love and only jewel.
O tell sweit Willie to come doun, And hear the mavis singing; And see the birds on ilka bush, And leaves around them hinging.
The lav'rock there, wi' her white breist, And gentle throat sae narrow; There's sport eneuch for gentlemen, On Leader haughs and Yarrow.
O Leader haughs are wide find braid, And Yarrow haughs are bonnie; There Willie hecht to marry me, If e'er he married ony.
O came ye by yon water side? Pou'd you the rose or lilie? Or cam' ye by yon meadow green? Or saw ye my sweit Willie?"
She sought him up, she sought him doun, She sought the braid and narrow; Syne, in the cleaving o' a craig, She found him drowned in Yarrow.
# The Book of Scottish Song/While frequent on Tweed

While frequent on Tweed.
[Written by the Rev. John Logan, at one time a clergyman in Leith, but who spent the latter years of his life as a literary adventurer in London. He was born in 1748, and died in 1788.]
While frequent on Tweed and on Tay, Their harps all the muses have strung,
Should a river more limpid than they, The wood-fringed Esk flow unsung?
While Nelly and Nancy inspire The poet with pastoral strains,
Why silent the voice of the lyre On Mary, the pride of the plains?
O nature's most beautiful bloom May flourish unseen and unknown:
And the shadows of solitude gloom A form that might shine on a throne.
Through the wilderness blossoms the rose, In sweetness retired from the sight;
And Philomel warbles her woes Alone to the ear of the night. ​How often the beauty is hid Amid shades that her triumphs deny! How often the hero forbid From the path that conducts to the sky! A Helen has pined in the grove; A Homer has wanted his name; Useen in the circle of love, Unknown to the temple of fame.
Yet let us walk forth to the stream, Where poet ne'er wander'd before; Enamour'd of Mary's sweet name, How the echoes will spread to the shore! If the voice of the muse be divine, Thy beauties shall live in my lay; While reflecting the forest so fine, Sweet Esk o'er the valleys shall stray.
# The Book of Scottish Song/While some to distant

While some to distant.
[Rev. J. Nicol.]
While some to distant regions sail Through storms that on the ocean roar; Or dye wi' blude the flowerie vale, Where love and pleasure reign'd before; Or, o' stern poverty afraid, Their countless sums o' gowd conceal I joyfu' sing the bonnie maid, The bonnie maid I lo'e sae weel.
Did e'er the roses on the green, Or lilies, bath'd in mornin' dew, Attract thy sight?—Then thou hast seen, Her dimplin' cheek's untainted hue: The momin' star didst thou e'er see In skies which not a cloud conceal? Then thou beheldst the sparklin' e'e O' the sweet maid I lo'e sae weel.
My fleecy flock I'll tend secure; My little orchard dress wi' care; Wi' blushin' flowerets deck my bower, A pleasant dwellin' for my fair. O! wad she spend her days wi' me, What joy, what happiness I'd feel! The pleasure o' my life wad be To please the maid I lo'e sae weel.
But if my simple vow she slight,— That mournfu' day, ah! shall I view!— I'll bid adieu to sweet delight! To love and beauty bid adieu! I'll seek some solitary shade, My ceaseless sorrow to conceal! But still I'll bless the bonnie maid,— The bonnie maid I lo'ed sae weel!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Will ye go to the Indies

Will ye go to the Indies.
[This simple yet energetic song, to the tune of The Ewe-Bughts, was written by Burns in early life. He afterwards sent it to George Thomson for publication in his collection, and thus wrote of it:—"In my very early years, when I was thinking of going to the West Indies, I took the following farewell of a dear girl: it is quite trifling, and has nothing of the merit of the Ewe-Bughts. You must know that all my earlier love-songs were the breathings of ardent passion; and though it might have been easy in after times to have given them a polish, yet that polish to me would have defaced the legend of the heart which was so faithfully inscribed on them. Their uncouth simplicity was, as they say of wines, their race." Thomson did not at first see the beauty of Burns's words to the tune of the Ewe-Bughts, but afterwards adopted them in his collection.]
Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, And leave auld Scotia's shore? Will ye go to the Indies, my Mary, Across the Atlantic's roar?
Oh, sweet grow the lime and the orange, And the apple on the pine; But a' the charms o' the Indies Can never equal thine.
I ha'e Sworn by the heavens, my Mary, I ha'e sworn by the heavens to be true; And sae may the heavens forget me, When I forget my vow!
O, plight me your faith, my Mary, And plight me your lily-white hand O, plight me your faith, my Mary, Before I leave Scotia's strand.
We ha'e plighted our troth, my Mary, In mutual affection to join; And curst be the cause that shall part us! The hour and the moment o' time!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Where shall the lover rest

Where shall the lover rest.
[This solemn warning strain Sir Walter Scott puts into the mouth of Fitz-Eustace, in the third canto of Marmion."—"A mellow voice," says the poet—
"A mellow voice Fitz-Eustace had, The air he chose was wild and sad; Such have I heard, in Scottish land, Rise from the busy harvest band, When falls before the mountaineer, On Lowland plains, the ripen'd ear. Now one shrill voice the notes prolong, Now a wild chorus swells the song: Oft have I listen'd, and stood still, As it came softened up the hill, And deem'd it the lament of men Who languish'd for their native glen: And thought how sad would be such sound On Susquehana's swampy ground, Kentucky's wood-encumber'd brake, Or wild Ontario's boundless lake, Where heart-sick exiles, in the strain, Recall'd fair Scotland's hills again."]
Where shall the lover rest, Whom the fates sever, From his true maiden's breast, Parted for ever? Where, through groves deep and high, Sounds the far billow, Where early violets die, Under the willow. Eleu loro. Soft shall be his pillow. ​There, through the summer day, Cool streams are laving, There, while the tempests sway, Scarce are boughs waving; There thy rest shalt thou take, Parted for ever, Never again to wake, Never, O never, Eleu loro. Never, O never.
Where shall the traitor rest, He the deceiver, Who could win maiden's breast, Ruin, and leave her? In the lost battle, Borne down by the flying, Where mingles war's rattle, With groans of the dying, Eleu loro. There shall he be lying.
Her wing shall the eagle flap O'er the false-hearted; His warm blood the wolf shall lap, E'er life be parted; Shame and dishonour sit By his grave ever; Blessing shall hallow it— Never, O never, Eleu loro. Never, O never.
# The Canonization

FOR God's sake hold your tongue, and let me love; Or chide my palsy, or my gout; My five gray hairs, or ruin'd fortune flout; With wealth your state, your mind with arts improve; Take you a course, get you a place, Observe his Honour, or his Grace; Or the king's real, or his stamp'd face Contemplate; what you will, approve, So you will let me love.
Alas! alas! who's injured by my love? What merchant's ships have my sighs drown'd? Who says my tears have overflow'd his ground? When did my colds a forward spring remove? When did the heats which my veins fill Add one more to the plaguy bill? Soldiers find wars, and lawyers find out still Litigious men, which quarrels move, Though she and I do love.
Call's what you will, we are made such by love; Call her one, me another fly, We're tapers too, and at our own cost die, And we in us find th' eagle and the dove. The phoenix riddle hath more wit By us; we two being one, are it; So, to one neutral thing both sexes fit. We die and rise the same, and prove Mysterious by this love.
We can die by it, if not live by love, And if unfit for tomb or hearse Our legend be, it will be fit for verse; And if no piece of chronicle we prove, We'll build in sonnets pretty rooms; As well a well-wrought urn becomes The greatest ashes, as half-acre tombs, And by these hymns, all shall approve Us canonized for love;
And thus invoke us, "You, whom reverend love Made one another's hermitage; You, to whom love was peace, that now is rage; Who did the whole world's soul contract, and drove Into the glasses of your eyes; So made such mirrors, and such spies, That they did all to you epitomize— Countries, towns, courts beg from above A pattern of your 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
# The Canterbury Tales (unsourced)

* related portals: English literature.
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, Commons category, quotes, Wikidata item.
Chaucer's Canterbury Tales presented in the original Middle English version. They are a collection of stories written at the end of the 14th century; given mostly in verse, (although a number of them are in prose) they are told as part of a story-telling contest by a group of pilgrims during their travel together on a journey from Southwark to the shrine of Saint Thomas Becket at Canterbury Cathedral. The first version of the tales to be published in print is William Caxton's 1478 print edition.

## Contents

* General Prologue (modernized)
* General Prologue
* The Knight's Tale
* The Miller's Prologue and Tale
* The Reeve's Prologue and Tale
* The Cook's Prologue and Tale
* The Man of Law's Prologue and Tale
* The Wife of Bath's Prologue and Tale
* The Friar's Prologue and Tale
* The Summoner's Prologue and Tale
* The Clerk's Prologue and Tale
* The Merchant's Prologue and Tale
* The Squire's Prologue and Tale
* The Franklin's Prologue and Tale
* The Physician's Tale
* The Pardoner's Prologue and Tale
* The Shipman's Tale
* The Prioress' Prologue and Tale
* Chaucer's Tale of Sir Topas
* The Tale of Melibee
* The Monk's Tale
* The Nun's Priest's Tale
* The Second Nun's Prologue and Tale
* The Canon's Yeoman's Prologue and Tale
* The Manciple's Prologue and Tale
* The Parson's Prologue and Tale
* Chaucer's Retraction
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 Canon's Yeoman's Prologue and Tale (Chaucer)

part of The Canterbury Tales
* The Chanouns Yemannes Tale (1900) from The Complete Works of Geoffrey Chaucer
* The Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale from The Canterbury Tales and Faerie Queene (1870) (transcription project)
* The Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale from The Canterbury tales of Geoffrey Chaucer (1914) (transcription project)
* The Canon’s Yeoman’s Tale from (unsourced)
# The Cheat (Holman)/Chapter 26

A steamship, ghostly white in the cool September moonlight, was making its way silently across the Caribbean.
A man and a woman were standing very close together, leaning on the rail of the passenger deck. She had brought him out to show him the Southern Cross tilting in the sky ahead of them. But now the woman, a gloriously beautiful girl of twenty-four or five, changed the subject.
"There must be some very special Fate looking after me," she said gravely. "I have thought so many times since that day in the courtroom. Why has Fate been so good to me? I have been selfish, thoughtless, anything almost that a good woman should not be, and yet I have attained every one of my heart's desires. I have you and my father back again, and, though it doesn't seem at all important now, I have the money I once thought I could never do without."
He looked down at her, smiling.
"There is one very marvelous thing about most women, Carmelita," he said. "As soon ​as the sun starts to shine, you have a wonderful gift for forgetting the terrible shadows you have been through. That is the chief reason the human race goes on. Men are usually not such good sports."
"Some men are."
"Perhaps. At any rate there would have been no benevolent Fate looking after you if you hadn't been worth it; if you weren't the good, heroic woman you are."
She was actually blushing. "Don't flatter me, Dudley," she bantered. "You have no idea how it goes to the head of us Spanish ladies."
"We shall see. In the meantime, you have promised the last dance to your father, and after that there is some excellent sleeping to be done, and an excellent stateroom to do it in, with a gently rolling ship to furnish a lullaby."
"As my husband says, 'Right-o.'"
The chronic dyspeptic who, huddled in his steamer rugs in the shadows because his doctor had warned him that the only way to avoid seasickness was to stay in the air, regarded Carmelita and Dudley with a jaundiced eye as they walked past him buoyantly arm in arm.
"Some people," he muttered to himself, ​"have all the luck. Those two have obviously never had a care in the world. They don't know what it is to suffer."
A billion miles away a star winked down.
The End
# The Bay View Magazine/Volume 21/Number 4/German Folk Song

O evergreen, O evergreen, How are thy leaves so verdant; Not only in the summer time But e'en in winter is thy prime; O evergreen, O evergreen, How are thy leaves so verdant?
O evergreen, O evergreen, We sing in happy measure. Thy praise who dost our Christmas greet With verdure fair and mem'ries sweet. O evergreen, O evergreen, Tree of unfailing treasure.
O evergreen, O evergreen, Thy garb unfading showeth The flower of joy about my door, Good cheer that faileth nevermore. O evergreen, O evergreen, My heart thy lesson knoweth.
# The Bay State Monthly

* related portals: Periodicals.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
was a monthly publication about Massachusetts, published 1884–1886. It was replaced by The New England Magazine.
Sort by date, title, or other :
| Date | Title | Commments |
| 1850-7-10April, 1885 | Sketch of the Life of Denman Thompson |
# The Bayadere (Letitia Elizabeth Landon)

* From The Literary Gazette, August 1823
* From The Improvisatrice; and Other Poems (1824)
# The Bayadere

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Bayadere."
* 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.
* The Bayadere, versions of a poem by Letitia Elizabeth Landon
* The Bayadere, a poem by Alan Seeger
# The Collected Works of Theodore Parker/Volume 07

CONTENTS TO VOL. VII.
THE
COLLECTED WORKS
OF
THEODORE PARKER
MINISTER OF THE TWENTY-EIGHTH CONGREGATIONAL SOCIETY AT BOSTON, U.S.
CONTAINING HIS
THEOLOGICAL, POLEMICAL, AND CRITICAL WRITINGS, SERMONS, SPEECHES, AND ADDRESSES, AND LITERARY MISCELLANIES.
EDITED BY
FRANCES POWER COBBE.
VOL. VII.
SERMONS OF THEISM, ATHEISM, AND THE POPULAR THEOLOGY.
Second Edition.
LONDON:
N. TRÜBNER & CO., 60, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1867.
LONDON:
W. STEVENS, PRINTER, 37, BELL YARD,
TEMPLE BAR.
DISCOURSES
OF
SOCIAL SCIENCE.
BY
THEODORE PARKER.
LONDON:
TRÜBNER & CO., 60, PATERNOSTER ROW.
1864.
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 Challenge from Beyond

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "The Challenge from Beyond."
* 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.
Two collaborative works of the same name, both published in 'Fantasy Magazine' in September 1935
* The Challenge from Beyond (1935, fantasy), by multiple authors
* The Challenge from Beyond (1935, science-fiction), by multiple authors