OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Our American Holidays - Christmas/A Ballade of Old Loves

A BALLADE OF OLD LOVES
CAROLYN WELLS
Who is it stands on the polished stair,  A merry, laughing, winsome maid, From the Christmas rose in her garden hair  To the high-heeled slippers of spangled suède A glance, half daring and half afraid,  Gleams from her roguish eyes downcast; Already the vision begins to fade—  ’Tis only a ghost of a Christmas Past.
Who is it sits in that high-backed chair,  Quaintly in ruff and patch arrayed, With a mockery gay of a stately air  As she rustles the folds of her old brocade,— Merriest heart at the masquerade?  Ah, but the picture is passing fast Back to the darkness from which it strayed—  ’Tis only a ghost of a Christmas Past.
Who is it whirls in a ball-room’s glare,  Her soft white hand on my shoulder laid, Like a radiant lily, tall and fair,  While the violins in the corner played The wailing strains of the Serenade?  Oh, lovely vision, too sweet to last— E’en now my fancy it will evade—  ’Tis only a ghost of a Christmas Past,
L’ENVOI
Rosamond! look not so dismayed,  All of my heart, dear love, thou hast Jealous, beloved? Of a shade?—  ’Tis only a ghost of a Christmas Past.
# Our American Holidays - Christmas/A Christmas Carmen

A CHRISTMAS CARMEN
JOHN G. WHITTIER
I
Sound over all waters, reach out from all lands, The chorus of voices, the clasping of hands; Sing hymns that were sung by the stars of the morn, Sing songs of the angels when Jesus was born!  With glad jubilations  Bring hope to the nations! The dark night is ending and dawn has begun: Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun,  All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one!
II
Sing the bridal of nations! with chorals of love Sing out the war-vulture and sing in the dove, Till the hearts of the peoples keep time in accord, And the voice of the world is the voice of the Lord!  Clasp hands of the nations  In strong gratulations:
The dark night is ending and dawn has begun; Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun,  All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one!
III
Blow, bugles of battle, the marches of peace; East, west, north, and south let the long quarrel cease Sing the song of great joy that the angels began, Sing of glory to God and of good-will to man!  Hark! joining in chorus  The heavens bend o'er us! The dark night is ending and dawn has begun; Rise, hope of the ages, arise like the sun,  All speech flow to music, all hearts beat as one!
# Pipetown Sandy/Chapter 2

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# Pipetown Sandy/Chapter 3

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# Piper v. Moon

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
91 U.S. 44
Piper v. Moon
MR. JUSTICE SWAYNE 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
# Piper v. Moon/Opinion of the Court

* Court Documents
* Case Syllabus
* Opinion of the Court
United States Supreme Court
91 U.S. 44
Piper v. Moon
The appellant's bill in this case is founded upon the same patent as the bill of the appellee in Brown et al. v. Piper, above reported.
In this case the court below dismissed the bill, and the complainant appealed to this courts. What was said in the case referred to disposes of this.
The decree of the Circuit Court is affirmed.

## 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
# Pipetown Sandy

Pipetown Sandy was the second novel written by Sousa.
PIPETOWN SANDY
PIPETOWN SANDY
By JOHN PHILIP SOUSA Author of The Fifth String
With illustrations by CHARLES LOUIS HINTON
INDIANAPOLIS THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY PUBLISHERS
Copyright 1905 The Bobbs-Merrill Company
September
CONTENTS
| CHAPTER | | PAGE |
| I | It's all in the Fingers | 1 |
| II | Sandy's Handsprings | 26 |
| III | Zorah Dabney | 39 |
| IV | "Pickin' Aigs" | 58 |
| V | Old Man Jebb | 67 |
| VI | When the Lord Made the River | 92 |
| VII | Mr. Jebb's Wooing | 109 |
| VIII | The School Exercises | 121 |
| IX | Doing it Brown | 152 |
| X | Juno Went A-Sailing | 169 |
| XI | "I've Been Fightin'" | 188 |
| XII | Sandy and Leander Have it Out | 205 |
| XIII | Jebb and Shakespeare | 227 |
| XIV | John Hildey | 239 |
| XV | White Horses and Chariots | 253 |
| XVI | The Nocatchtank Club | 265 |
| XVII | "Two Gentlemen, Born an' Bred" | 291 |
| XVIII | Sandy on the Watch | 301 |
| XIX | Christmas Eve | 311 |
| XX | Poor Lily | 332 |
| XXI | Sandy to the Rescue | 350 |
| XXII | On the River | 368 |
| XXIII | Good-by | 381 |
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 1932, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 91 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
# Pipetown Sandy/Chapter 4

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# Poems (Denver)

POEMS.
by
MARY CAROLINE AND JANE CAMPBELL DENVER.
Zwei Seelen und eine Gebauke.
Deux estions et n'avions qu'un Cœur.
Printed for their Brother, James W. Denver,
By LANGE LITTLE & CO,
new york.
1875
PREFACE.
Those who were dear to us, and have died, live for us still in our remembrances of them—of their acts, and words, and thoughts; and when they have written their thoughts, in verse or prose, they still speak to us by them, and we naturally believe that if the thoughts live, so does the soul of which they were the outflowings, and that for us, whom they loved, to preserve these in permanent form must be grateful to them, if, where they are, they know what we say and think of them, and whether we forget or remember them.
The brothers to whom the poems in this book are legacies from beloved sisters who have died, distrusting their own partial judgment, have submitted the poems, in manuscript, to one familiar with books, and long acquainted with the works of the English poets, and upon his opinion have now published them. They were written by young ​women, accustomed to field and forest, and not to the city; simple, natural, unaffected,—of affectionate natures, vivid imagination, and quick and earnest sympathies,—greatly loving Nature; and their poems are reflections of their thoughts, fancies, sympathies, and aspirations.
They are poems of the heart, written for themselves and a small circle, without expectation of receiving the praises of the world. They are simple and natural, harmonious in rhythm and cadence, and without attempt at singularity of expression—a skilful adaptation of words used in new senses and connections, to startle and surprise; in which kind of word-painting too much of our modern poetry consists. "Our modern dramatists," a great critic has said—and it may be said with the same truth of many modern poets who are not dramatists—"appeal not to Nature or the heart, but—to the readers of modern poetry. Words and paper, each couleur de rose, are the two requisites of a fashionable style."
If these poems commend themselves to those who read them, it will be because they appeal to Nature and the heart; because they are the effusions of pure, thoughtful, refined intellects,—displaying the ​traits of character which made the Authors dear to so many hearts.
September, 1875.
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
# Otis v. Parker

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
187 U.S. 606
Otis v. Parker
Argued: and Submitted April 24, 1902. --- Decided: for reargument May 5, 1902
Mr. John G. Johnson for plaintiffs in error on original argument.
Mr. Edmund Tauszky for plaintiffs in error on motion to dismiss or affirm.
Mr. John H. Miller for defendant in error.
Mr. John G. Johnson for plaintiffs in error on reargument.
Mr. Joseph Hutchinson for defendant in error.
Mr. Justice Holmes 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
# Otis v. Walter (24 U.S. 192)

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
24 U.S. 192
Otis v. Walter

## 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
# Otis v. Watkins

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
13 U.S. 339
Otis v. Watkins

## 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
# Otis v. Walter

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Otis v. Walter."
* 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.
* Otis v. Walter (15 U.S. 18), ( 4 L.Ed. 174 ), ( 2 Wheat. 18 )
* Otis v. Walter (19 U.S. 583), ( 5 L.Ed. 336 ), ( 6 Wheat. 583 )
* Otis v. Walter (24 U.S. 192), ( 6 L.Ed. 452 ), ( 11 Wheat. 192 )
# Otis v. Walter (15 U.S. 18)

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
15 U.S. 18
Otis v. Walter
ERROR to the supreme judicial court of the state of Massachusetts.
This was an action of trover brought in the state court, in which Walter, the plaintiff in that court, recovered of Otis, the defendant in that court, damages for the conversion of sundry articles constituting the cargo of a vessel called the Ten Sisters. The defendant in the court below, collector of the port of Barnstable, in Massachusetts, had detained the vessel under suspicion of an intention to violate the embargo laws, particularly the act of the 25th of April, 1808, sec. 6. and 11. The vessel sailed from Ipswich with a cargo of flour, tar, and rice, in order to carry the same to Barnstable, or to a place called Bass river in Yarmouth; and proceeded to Hyannis, in the collection district of Barnstable. On her arrival there, the master applied to the collector for a permit to land the cargo, which was refused by the latter, who shortly afterwards seized and detained the vessel under the above-mentioned acts. This detention was given in evidence as a defence to the action under the general issue, and the chief justice of the supreme court of Massachusetts instructed the jury 'that the said several matters and things, so allowed and proved, were not sufficient to bar the plaintiff of his said action, nor did they constitute or amount to any defence whatever in the action,' &c. Whereupon the jury found a verdict, and the court rendered a judgment for the plaintiff.
The Attorney-General, for the plaintiff in error, argued, that this case fell under the principle of that of Crowell v. M'Fadon,a and it would appear that the vessel was in itinere; but that even if this were not the state of the case, the jury ought to have been left to make their own inference from the facts, and not to have been charged by the judge that no defence whatever was made out.
Mr. Read, for the defendant in error, contended, that the case of Otis v. Baconb was perfectly in point, and showed that the vessel, having arrived at her port of discharge, was no longer within the operation of the embargo laws; and that if the collector's defence was not completely made out-if it was, in any respect, materially defective, it was not made out at all.
Mr. Justice JOHNSON 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
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/The Sailor-Man

THE SAILOR-MAN
Permission of Life, New York
I like the look of khaki and the cut of army wear, And the men of mettle sporting it, at home and over there; But there's something at the heart-strings that tautens when I meet A blue-clad sailor-man adrift, on shore-leave from the fleet.
From flapping togs his sea-legs win some tinge of old romance That's proper to the keeper of the paths that lead to France; For what were all the soldiers worth that ever tossed a gun Without the ships and sailor-men to pit them 'gainst the Hun!
There's sunlight now and steady ground beneath the sailor's tread, And every pleasure beckons him, and every snare is spread; Speed well this visitor, whose home 'twixt heaving decks is set, Whose playmates are the darkness, and the bitter cold, and wet!
​His comrades these; his foe is ours, the foe of law and right, The stealthy, murderous German "fish," that prowls and kills by night; And none may sink him where he swims, flouting God's age-built plan, None but the guardian of us all, the rolling sailor-man. His hands are often cruel cold; his heart is oftener warm, For in its depths he knows 'tis he that shields the world from harm; Because I know it too, my heart beats warmer when I meet A blue-clad sailor-man adrift, on shore-leave from the fleet.
—M. A. DeWolfe Howe
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/The Service Flag

THE SERVICE FLAG
Permission of the author
Dear little flag in the window there, Hung with a tear and a woman's prayer; Child of Old Glory, born with a star— Oh, what a wonderful flag you are!
Blue Is your star in its field of white, Dipped in the red that was born of fight; Born of the blood that our forebears shed To raise your mother, The Flag, o'erhead.
And now you've come, in this frenzied day, To speak from a window—to speak and say: "I am the voice of a soldier-son Gone to be gone till the victory's won.
"I am the flag of The Service, sir; The flag of his mother—I speak for her Who stands by my window and waits and fears, But hides from the others her unwept tears.
"I am the flag of the wives who wait For the safe return of a martial mate, A mate gone forth where the war god thrives To save from sacrifice other men's wives.
"I am the flag of the sweethearts true; The often unthought of—the sisters, too. ​I am the flag of a mother's son And won't come down till the victory's won!"
Dear little flag in the window there, Hung with a tear and a woman's prayer; Child of Old Glory, born with a star— Oh, what a wonderful flag you are!
—William Herschell
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/The Soldier's Mother

THE SOLDIER'S MOTHER
After all, there is no love like a mother's love. She loves her unborn babe with a tender, wistful, yearning love which makes the anguish of her sufferings a joy unspeakable. When the little one is placed in her arms exultant joy fills her heart. The wee baby rules this mother heart, and the growing child is her first thought in the morning hour and her last prayer as she rests her weary head upon her pillow. She is generally reticent and undemonstrative, but her boy is the joy of her heart and the gladness of her life. This wise and loving mother knows her boy must have companionships intimate and dear, and she does not interfere. Her boy becomes a man, and gradually he forms his circle of friendships, and as time goes on he is overwhelmed by the mystery and gladness of a great love. His mother understands, and with a tender light in her eyes she withdraws herself just a little more. Then comes the joy and bewilderment of the growing family and new chambers are unlocked in her "boy's" heart, but the mother, now growing old, understands, and there is no jealousy in her heart.
She sits alone much these days, but her memory is busy, and her heart holds a secret of that love which began before her boy was ​born—that boy who is now a great man with a home and babies of his own. How sweet and holy and God-like is mother's love!
In the great and devastating war no one can ever estimate the suffering of the mothers of all lands. With complete self-forgetfulness they have said farewell to their boys. The women of Sparta were not braver than the women of the warring countries of to-day. And now our American mothers must lay their sons on the altar of their country, and they will do so with a heroism unsurpassed by the mothers of any country or any generation. Others will suffer, but the suffering of our mothers will be as sweet and holy and God-like as their love.
If it pleases God, many of our noble young men will come unscathed through the dragon-guarded gates of war. Flushed with victory, decorated with badges of honor, grown strong with burden-bearing, these boys will come home amid the plaudits and tears of welcome hosts. Mother, may your boy be among those who will thus come home! But if not, you will remember that it will be his glory to die for his beloved country. You will rejoice that he went forward with undaunted mien and unflinching eye, and that, like Nathan Hale, he was sorry that he had but one life to lose for his country!
—Watchman Examiner
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/The Quartermaster Corps

THE QUARTERMASTER CORPS
The Quartermaster Corps Is a non-combatin' crowd, An' it isn't much excitin' Fer th' man who likes it loud; But it's got its own hard work t' do, An' they'd all be on th' floor If it wasn't for the non-combatin' Quartermaster Corps.
The Quartermaster Corps Sheds no glory or renown, But it's got the grub that keeps you Comin' back when you are down; An' the Infantree an' Cavalree Would all be on the floor If it wasn't fer the non-combatin' Quartermaster Corps.
The Quartermaster Corps Is ol' Jimmy-on-the-Spot When it comes to gettin' chow To th' line where things are hot; Why, the boys up in the trenches Would all be on the floor If it wasn't fer the non-combatin' Quartermaster Corps.
​The Quartermaster Corps Don't use bayonets or guns, But they do a mighty lot o' work To help clean up th' Huns; So here's something to remember— You might all be on the floor If it wasn't fer the non-combatin' Quartermaster Corps!
—William C. Pryor, Sgt., Q.M.C.
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/The Soldier

THE SOLDIER
Permission of the author
He needs no tinsel on his coat, No metal, star or braid; No outward sign of rank or worth To keep him unafraid.
The soldier carries in his breast A living accolade— The dear medallion of her face, The noblest medal made!
Her faith, her hope, her tenderness, Her human fear and pain Are like the glory on his soul To comfort and sustain.
In honor and in pride he goes To face his duty grim; Transplanted to himself, he feels The heart that beats for him!
—Christopher Morley
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/The Parade

THE PARADE
Permission of the author
I watch the regiments swinging by In the shimmer of polished steel, With guns that glisten, and flags that fly, And bronzed young faces, and heads held high, And the glint of the bayonet finds reply In the answering flash of the soldier's eye, As the endless lines unreel.
I hear the throb of the big bass drum; 'Tis the heart of the army beats In its loud tattoo, and my pulses thrum, And the swelling veins in my temple hum, And my sight grows dim, and my lips are dumb, As I stand on tiptoe to see it come Through the crowded and cheering streets.
I see the regiments tramping by To the lilt of a martial air, Clean young fellows, alert and spry, Ready and eager to do and die For humanity under an alien sky, And a proud old woman this day am I, For my son is marching there!
—Minna Irving
# Patriotic pieces from the Great War/The Prayer

THE PRAYER
Permission of the publishers, Geo. H. Doran Co., New York
You say there's only evil in this war— That bullets drive out Christ? If you had been In Furnes with me that night ... what would you say, I wonder? It was ruin past all words, Horror where joyous comfort used to be, And not clean quiet death, for all day long The great shells tore the little that remained Like vultures on a body that still breathes. They stopped as it grew dark. I looked about The ghastly wilderness that once had been The village street, and saw no other life Except a Belgian soldier, shadowy Among the shadows, and a little group Of children creeping from a cellar school And hurrying home. One older than the rest— So little older!—mothered them along Till all at once a stray belated shell Whined suddenly out of the gloom, and burst Near by. The babies wailed and clung together, Helpless with fear. In vain the little mother Encouraged them—"But no! you mustn't cry, ​That isn't brave, that isn't French!" At last She led her frightened brood across the way To where there stood a roadside Calvary Bearing its sad indomitable Christ— Strange how the shells will spare just that! I saw So many ... There they knelt, poor innocents, Hands folded and eyes closed. I stole across And stood behind them. "We must say our prayer— Our Father which art in heaven," she began, And all the little sobbing voices piped, "Hallowed be Thy Name." From down the road The Belgian soldier had come near. I felt Him standing there beside me in the dusk. "Thy kingdom come— "Thy will be done on earth As it is In heaven." The irony of it Cut me like steel. I barely kept an oath Behind my teeth. If one could name this earth In the same breath with heaven—what is hell? Only a little child could pray like this. "Give us this day our daily bread—" A pause. There was no answer. She repeated it Urgently. Still the hush. She opened wide ​Reproachful eyes at them. Their eyes were open Also, and staring at the shadowy shapes Of ruin all around them. Now that prayer Had grown too hard even for little children. "I know—I know—but we must say the prayer," She faltered. "Give us this day our daily bread, And—and forgive—" she stopped. "Our trespasses As we forgive them who have trespassed against us." The children turned amazed to see who spoke The words they could not. I too turned to him, The soldier there beside me—and I looked Into King Albert's face ... I have no words To tell you what I saw ... only I thought That while a man's breast held a heart like that, Christ was not—even here—so far away.
—Amelia Josephine Burr