OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1823/On the Picture of a Young Girl

Literary Gazette, 17th May 1823, Page 316
ORIGINAL POETRY. ON THE PICTURE OF A YOUNG GIRL.
A beautiful and laughing thing,
Just in her first apparelling
Of girlish loveliness: blue eyes,
Such blue as in the violet dwells,
And rose-bud lips of sweets, such sweets
The bee hoards in his fragrant cells.
'Tis not a blush upon her cheek—
On blushes but of love can speak;
That brow is all too free from care
For Love to be a dweller there. Alas, that Love should ever fling
One shadow from his radiant wing!
But that fair cheek knows not a cloud,
And health and hope are in its dyes.
She has been over hill and dale,
Chasing the summer butterflies.
Yet there is malice in her smile, As if she felt her woman's power,
And had a gift of prophecy,
To look upon that coming hour
When, feared by some, yet loved by all,
Young Beauty holds her festival. L. E. L.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1823/Love Sleeping beneath a Palm-Tree

Literary Gazette, 8th February 1823, Page 91
LOVE SLEEPING BENEATH A PALM-TREE.
Ah, this is ours! that gentle Love
 Sleeping beneath the palm-tree's shade,
Weaving the white wings of the dove,
 His bow, unbent, beside him laid. Give me the Love that will not change,
 Tho' aught and all were changed beside;
The Love that nothing can estrange,
 Whate'er of weal or woe betide;
Fixed in one faith, vowed to one vow,
 Thro' every chance and change of ill,
Bearing with all Love meets below
 Of sorrow, yet devoted still!
It may have wings, but they must be
 Of colours in all lights the same,
Like the moth's, hovering constantly,
 Even to death, around one flame.
A star that shines forth night and day,
 A wreath of spring and winter flowers,
Emblem true love. And I may say,
 May I not, dear!—"Such love is ours“
L.E.L
In our our last, the title should not have been the Cadet, but the Cadets.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1823/Old Man

Literary Gazette, 1st March 1823, Page 139
An Old Man standing by the dead body of a Youth
I am too proud by far to weep,  Though earth had nought so dear As was the Soldier Youth to me  Now sleeping on that bier. It were a stain upon his fame Would do his laurel crown a shame,  To shed one single tear. It was a blessed lot to die In battle, and for liberty!
He was my first, my only child,  And when my race was run, I was so proud to send him forth  To do as I had done. It was his last, his only field: They brought him back upon his shield,  But victory was won. I cannot weep when I recall Thy land has cause to bless thy fall.
When others tell their children all  The fame that warriors win, I must sit silent, and but think  On what my child had been. It is a father's joy to see The young eyes glow exultingly  When warlike tales begin; And yet I know no living one I would change for my sleeping Son.
* ↑ Appears in The Vow of the Peacock and Other Poems (1835), as AN OLD MAN OVER THE BODY OF HIS SON.
* ↑ Signature after later poem
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1823/Maid Marian

Literary Gazette, 4th January, 1823, Page 12
XIII.
Written after seeing Maid Marian performed.
Oh, for the days of the bow and the spear,
And the hawk and the hound and the good red deer! I rather would dwell in the forest bower
Than in princely hall or in knightly tower,
Amid hearts as free as the shaft of their bow,
The tall oaks above, the soft grass below.
Oh, down and the purple canopy,
Are not worth the shade of the greenwood tree!
My Love would look well in the Lincoln green, With his blade, and his bow, and his arrows keen;
And the hazel glance of his falcon eye
The maiden would love, and the warrior fly.
I would ask no gems but the flowers of spring,
No music but what the birds could sing; And we'd lead a life like a fairy tale, As free and as fresh and as light as the gale.
Oh, sweet and wild the hours would be
We past in the shade of the greenwood tree!
Oh, cities are all of smoke and care,
And gold is the curse that is laid on all there,
And feelings grow cold, and hearts lie dead,
And the fresh leaves of hope are withered!
But sweet is the cry when the wild buck bells,
And sweetly the horn of the hunter swells;
And life is of love and of liberty,
When past in the shade of the greenwood tree!
L. E. L.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1823/Medallion Advert

Literary Gazette, 4th January, 1823, Pages 11-12
MEDALLION WAFERS
We think we are right in classing among the Fine Arts one of the prettiest, and not the least useful inventions of the present period: we allude to what are denominated Medallion Wafers. These are Seals of a particular composition, which, being stuck on letters, perform the office of wax or wafer in a very elegant fashion. They are of all sizes, colours, and devices; many of them beautiful as copies of the finest gems, cameos, and intaglios of the antique. Thus these specimens not only serve an every day purpose with facility, but are calculated to spread abroad an acquaintance and admiration of the most graceful forms of taste and genius. The composition is, we take it for granted, a secret to the inventors, Messrs. Thomson, of Wellington-street. We suspect isinglass and white lead to be ingredients; but however made, they are certainly exceedingly beautiful, and as fit for love-letters as any thing that could be imagined.
Advertisement on the 11th January, 1823, Page 30
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1823/Medallion Conclusion

Literary Gazette, 1st March 1823, Page 139
Conclusion.
All, all forgotten! Oh, false Love!
 I had not deemed that this could be,
That heart and lute, so truly thine,
 Could both be broken, and by thee.
I did not dream, when I have loved
 To dwell on Sorrow's saddest tone,
That its reality would soon
 Be but the echo of mine own.
Farewell! I give thee back each vow,
 Vows are but vain when love is dead;
What boot the trammels, when the bird
 They should have kept so safe, is fled?
But go! be happy and be free,
 My heart is far too warm for thine;
Go! and 'mid Pleasure's lights and smiles,
 Heed not what tears and clouds are mine.
But I,—oh, how can I forget
 What has been more than life to me!
Oh wherefore, wherefore was I taught
 So much of passion's misery!
Thy name is breathed on every song—
 How can I bid those songs depart?
The thoughts I've treasur'd up of thee
 Are more than life-blood to my heart.
But I may yet learn to forget;
 I am too proud for passion's chain;
I yet may learn to wake my lute—
 But never at Love's call again.
I will be proud for you to hear
 Of glory brightening on my name;
Oh vain, oh worse than vanity!
 Love, love is all a woman's fame.
Then deepest silence to the chords
 Which only wakened for thy sake;
When love has left both heart and harp,
 Ah what can either do but break!—L. E. L.
# Landon in The Literary Gazette 1823/Nereid

Literary Gazette, 1st March 1823, Page 139
A Nereid floating on a Shell.
Thy dwelling is the coral cave, Thy element the blue sea wave, Thy music the wild billows dashing, Thy light the diamond's crystal flashing: I'd leave this earth to dwell with thee, Bright-haired daughter of the sea! It was an hour of lone starlight When first my eye caught thy sweet sight: Thy white feet press'd a silver shell, Love's own enchanted corracle; Thy fair arms waved like the white foam The seas dash from their billowy home; And far behind, thy golden hair, A bright sail, floated on the air; And on thy lips there was a song, As music wafted thee along. They say, sweet daughter of the sea, Thy look and song are treachery; Thy smile is but the honied bait To lure thy lover to his fate. I know not, and I care still less; It is enough of happiness To be deceived. Oh, never yet Could love doubt—no, one doubt would set His fettered pinions free from all His false but most delicious thrall. Love cannot live and doubt; and I, Vowed slave to my bright deity, Have but one prayer: Come joy, come ill, If you deceive, deceive me still; Better the heart in faith should die Than break beneath love's perjury.
* ↑ Appears in The Vow of the Peacock and Other Poems (1835)
* ↑ Signature after next poem
# Ko-Ko's Courtship

* related portals: Cartoons, Silent film.
* sister projects: Commons category, Wikidata item.
A 1928 American silent live-action animated film, part of the series The Inkwell Imps.
Cast and Crew :
| Crew ||
| Production company | Fleischer Studios |
| Distributor | Paramount Pictures |
| Director | Dave Fleischer (d. 1979) |
| Producer | Max Fleischer (d. 1972) |
| Based on available information, the latest crew member that is relevant to international copyright laws died in 1979, meaning that this film may be in the public domain in countries and jurisdictions with 44 years p.m.a. or less, as well as in the United States. ||
ALFRED WEISS presents
The INKWELL IMPS
KO-KO'S COURTSHIP
Copyright MCMXXVIII All Rights Reserved
Produced by Max Fleischer
INKWELL STUDIOS
"Take this drawing of Ko-Ko to the studio——and don't kill time!"
"Follow 'Skinny' and don't let him waste any time!"
"Hey 'Skinny'——you're too shy! Watch me make a jane!"
"Quick——the pen! Ko-Ko's running wild!"
Inkwell Studios
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
Copyright law abroad tends to consider the following people authors of a film:
* The principal director
* The screenwriter, and/or other writers of dialogue
* The composer/lyricist (if the film is accompanied by sound)
* The cinematographer
* By extension, the authors of any works that may serve as the basis for a film's plot
The longest-living of these authors died in 1979, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 44 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
# Koehler v. Black River Falls Iron Company

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
67 U.S. 715
Koehler v. Black River Falls Iron Company
Appeal from the District Court of the United States for the District of Wisconsin.
Mr. Carlisle of Washington City for appellant.
Mr. Doolittle of Wisconsin. Contra.
Mr. Justice DAVIS.

## 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
# Koehler v. United States

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
342 U.S. 852
Koehler v. United States
Messrs. Elbert R. Jandt and Ben F. Foster, for petitioners.
Solicitor General Perlman, Assistant Attorney General McInerney and Mr. Robert S. Erdahl, for the United States.
Petition for writ of certiorari to the Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit.

## 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
# Kobiety (Women)

KOBIETY
(WOMEN)
A Novel of Polish Life
BY SOFJA RYGIER-NALKOWSKA
TRANSLATED FROM THE POLISH
BY
MICHAEL HENRY DZIEWICKI
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS NEW YORK AND LONDON The Knickerbocker Press
1920
Copyright, 1920, by
G. P. Putnam’s Sons
CONTENTS
| | | PAGE |
| I. | Ice-Plains | 1 |
| II. | "The Garden of Red Flowers" | 103 |
| III. | A Canticle of Love | 208 |
JANINA
From the drawing by W. T. Benda
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1837/Gibraltar. Scene During the Plague

81
* GIBRALTAR, FROM ALGEXIRAS.
* Artist: C. Bentley - Engraved by: J. C. Bentley
GIBRALTAR.
SCENE DURING THE PLAGUE.
At first, I only buried one,  And she was borne along By kindred mourners to her grave,  With sacred rite and song. At first they sent for me to pray  Beside the bed of death: They blessed their household, and they breathed  Prayer in their latest breath. But then men died more rapidly—
 They had not time to pray; And from the pillow love had smoothed  Fear fled in haste away. And then there came the fastened door—  Then came the guarded street— Friends in the distance watched for friends;  Watched,—that they might not meet. And Terror by the hearth stood cold,  And rent all natural ties, And men, upon the bed of death,  Met only stranger eyes: The nurse—and guard, stern, harsh, and wan  Remained, unpitying, by; They had known so much wretchedness,  They did not fear to die. Heavily rung the old church bells,  But no one came to prayer: The weeds were growing in the street,  Silence and Fate were there. O’er the first grave by which I stood,  Tears fell, and flowers were thrown, The last grave held six hundred lives,*  And there I stood alone.
* A fact, mentioned to me by a clergyman, Mr. Howe, whose duty enforced residence during the ravages of the Yellow Fever.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1837/Lancaster Castle

63
* LANCASTER CASTLE.
* Artist: T. Allom - Engraved by: T. Higham
LANCASTER CASTLE.
ark with age these towers look down
Over their once vassal town;
Warlike—yet long years have past
Since they looked on slaughter last.
Never more will that dark wall
Echo with the trumpet’s call,
When the Red Rose and the White
Called their warriors to the fight.
Never more the sounding yew,
Which the English archer drew,
Will decide a battle-day
Past like its own shafts away.
Never more those halls will ring
With the ancient harper’s string,
When the red wine passed along
With a shout and with a song.
Trumpet, harp, and good yew bow
Are so many memories now,
While the loom, the press, the gun,
Have another age begun.
Yet that old chivalric hour
Hath upon the present power
Changed—and softened and refined
It has left its best behind.
What may its bequeathings be?
Honour, song, and courtesy.
Like the spirit of its clay,
Yesterday redeems to-day.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1837/Expectation

27
EXPECTATION.
She looked from out the window With long and asking gaze, From the gold clear light of morning  To the twilight’s purple haze. Cold and pale the planets shone, Still the girl kept gazing on. From her white and weary forehead  Droopeth the dark hair, Heavy with the dews of evening,  Heavier with her care; Falling as the shadows fall, Till flung round her like a pall.
When from the carved lattice  First she leant to look, Her bright face was written  Like some pleasant book; Her warm cheek the red air quaffed, And her eyes looked out and laughed. She is leaning back now languid  And her cheek is white, Only on the drooping eyelash  Glistens tearful light. Colour, sunshine hours are gone, Yet the Lady watches on.
Human heart this history  Is thy fated lot, Even such thy watching  For what cometh not Till with anxious waiting dull Round thee fades the beautiful. Still thou seekest on though weary,  Seeking still in vain; Daylight deepens into twilight,  What has been thy gain? Death and night are closing round, All that thou hast sought unfound.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1837/Lord Melbourne

40
* Artist: Sir Thomas Lawrence - Engraved by: S. Freeman
LORD MELBOURNE.
It is a glorious task to guide
The vessel thro’ the dashing tide
When dark is the tumultuous sea
And thunder-clouds are on the lea,
While war notes mount upon the wind
From the fierce storm that rides behind.
And such a task it is to steer
A people in their high career,
When old opinions war, and change
Is sudden, violent, and strange;
And men recall the past, to say,
So shall not be the coming day.
Such time is passing o’er our land,
New thoughts arise—new hopes expand,
And man knows in his own strong will
It is his purpose to fulfil:
In the fierce contest of such hour,
How mighty is the leader’s power.
More glorious than the conqueror’s brand, The rule entrusted to such hand. From it the past and present claim The rights they teach, the hopes they frame: Do what the island of the free; What England should expect of thee!
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1837/Rebecca

11
REBECCA.
She looketh on the glittering scene  With an unquiet eye;
The shadow of the wakening heart
 Is passing darkly by.
The heart that is a woman’s world,
 Her temple and her home,
Which coloureth with itself her cares,
 Whence all her joys must come.
All generous feelings nursed the love  That out of pity came;
Womanly kindness, suffering truth,
 Might sanctify its claim.
But better had she shared the doom,
 She bade from him depart;
Death has no bitterness like life,
 Life with a wasted heart.
Proud—beautiful—she boweth down  Beneath one deep despair;
Youth lingers lovely on her cheek,
 It only lingers there.
She will command herself, and bear
 The doom by Fate assigned;
In natures high as her's, the heart
 Is mastered by the mind.
But not the less ’tis desolate,  All lofty thoughts and dreams;
The poetry, with whose deep life  All stronger feeling teems.
These aggravate the ill, and give
 A misery of their own;
The gifted spirit suffers much,
 To common ones unknown.
Why did she love? Alas, such choice  Is not at woman’s will;
Once must she love, and on that cast
 Is set life’s good or ill.
Sorrows, and timid cares, and tears,
 The happiest entertain;
But this world has no other hope,
 For her who loves in vain.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1837/Eucles Announcing the Victory of Marathon

35
* EUCLES ANNOUNCING THE VICTORY OF MARATHON.
* Artist: B. R. Haydon - Engraved by: S. Sangster
EUCLES ANNOUNCING THE VICTORY OF MARATHON.
e cometh from the purple hills,
Where the fight has been to-day;
He bears the standard in his hand—
Shout round the victor’s way.
The sun-set of a battle won,
Is round his steps from Marathon.
Gather the myrtles near,
And fling them on his path;
Take from her braided hair
The flowers the maiden hath,
A welcome to the welcome one,
Who hastens now from Marathon.
They crowd around his steps, Rejoicing young and old; The laurel branch he bears, His glorious tale hath told, The Persian’s hour of pride is done, Victory is on Marathon.
She cometh with brightened cheek,
She who all day hath wept;
The wife and mother’s tears,
Where her youngest infant slept,
The heart is in her eyes alone,
What careth she for Marathon?
But down on his threshold, down! Sinks the warrior’s failing breath, The tale of that mighty field Is left to be told by death.— ’Tis a common tale—the victor’s sun Sets, in tears and blood, o’er Marathon.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1837/Dirge

53
DIRGE.
Lay her in the gentle earth,
Where the summer maketh mirth;
Where young violets have birth;
Where the lily bendeth.
Lay her there, the lovely one!
With the rose, her funeral stone;
And for tears, such showers alone
As the rain of April lendeth.
From the midnight’s quiet hour
Will come dews of holy power,
O’er the sweetest human flower
That was ever loved.
But she was too fair and dear
For our troubled pathway here;
Heaven, that was her natural sphere,
Has its own removed.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1837/Introduction

4
INTRODUCTION.
Another year—again our page
 Goes wandering over sea and land,
And gathers, in its pilgrimage,
 The shells on many a foreign strand;—
And asks their music and their dreams—
 What of the future, and the past.
Waking the visionary gleams
 Around the colder present cast.
Two worlds there are—one, chill and stern,
 Is the external world alone,
Whose lessons all mankind must learn,
 Whose troubles all mankind have known.
It were too harsh, it were too cold,
 But for the world within that lies;
The spirit, by the clay controlled,
 There yet asserts its native skies.
It is the minstrel’s part to fling
 Around the present’s common cope,
The solemn hues on Memory’s wing,
 The spiritual light of Hope.
The scene that to a careless eye
 Seems nothing but itself to be,
Has charmed earth and haunted sky—
 Seen as the minstrel’s eye can see.
Himself is but an instrument
 Inspired by that diviner hour,
When first Imagination lent
 To earth its passion and its power.
Its presence to the heart of man
 Is like the sunshine to the earth:
The soul of its eternal plan,
 And whence the beautiful has birth.
All things divine and elevate
 Attend its mighty influence here—
The daylight of our actual state,
 The moral glory of our sphere.
Without its being, earth’s fair face
 Has no sweet shadows, flung of yore;
The present lacks the sacred grace
 Bequeathed by those that are no more.
Without such lovely light the while,
 Dark, silent, strange, all scenes would be;
And Ithaca were but an isle,
 Unknown, upon a nameless sea!
But now a thousand years come back,
 The gift of one immortal line;
Each with new splendor on its track,
 As stars upon the midnight shine.
All tender thoughts that fill the heart
 With tears, and dreams more soft than tears,
Have in imagination part,
 Which sanctifies what it endears.
I only wake the softest chord
 That is upon the dreaming lyre;
One low, one love-touched whispering word,
 Which asks its tears, but not its fire.
I ask of every pictured scene
 What human hearts have beaten there;
What sorrow on their soil has been,
 What hope has lighted human care?
I have myself forgot regret,
 Care, trouble, wrong, amid my strain;
If I win others to forget,
 My song has not been quite in vain.
L. E. L.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1837/Lincoln Cathedral

18
* EXTERIOR OF LINCOLN CATHEDRAL.
* Artist: T. Allom - Engraved by: E. Challis
LINCOLN CATHEDRAL.
’Twas the deep forest bodied forth that fane,
So rose the arches of the old oak trees,
So wreathed the close set branches at their side,
So through the open spaces gleamed the sun;
While like an anthem sang the morning birds.  All nature teacheth worship unto man,
And the first instinct of the heart is faith.
Those carved aisles, so noble in their state,
So graceful in each exquisite device,
Are of the past; a rude and barbarous past,
And yet they rose to heaven. Though the red sword Flashed in the sun, and with unholy flash
Disturbed the silver moonlight’s quiet hour;
Yet even then men craved for peace and heaven.
Hence rose these glorious temples, where the Cross
Still sanctifies its merciful domain.
It is curious to observe how much the aspect of nature has in every country given its aspect to architecture. The colossal proportions of Indian scenery have not more given their likeness to the vast temples of the Hindoos, than our own northern forests have given their own character to the Gothic cathedral.
# Letitia Elizabeth Landon (L. E. L.) in Fisher's Drawing Room Scrap Book, 1837/Derwent Water

48
* DERWENT WATER, FROM THE CASTLE HEAD, CUMBERLAND.
* Artist: T. Allom - Engraved by: S. Lacey
DERWENT WATER.
I knew her—though she used to make
Her dwelling by that lonely lake.
A little while she came to show
How lovely distant flowers can go.
The influence of that fairy scene
Made beautiful her face and mien.
I have seen faces far more fair,
But none that had such meaning there. For to her downcast eyes were given
The azure of an April heaven;
The softening of those sunny hours,
By passing shadows, and by showers.
O’er her cheek the wandering red,
By the first wild rose was shed.
Evanescent, pure, and clear,
Just the warm heart’s atmosphere.
Like the sweet and inner world,
In that early rose-bud furled.
All whose rich revealing glow
Round the lovelier world below.
Light her step was, and her voice
Said unto the air, rejoice;
And her light laugh’s silvery breaking
Sounded like the lark’s first waking.
Return to that fair lake, return, On whose green heathlands grows the fern; And mountain heights of dark grey stone, Are bright with lichens overgrown. Thou art too fay-like and too fair For our more common clouded air. Beauty such as thine belongs To a world of dreams and songs; Let thy image with us dwell, Lending music to farewell.