OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/The Chamois Hunter's Love

THE CHAMOIS HUNTER'S LOVE.
For all his wildness and proud fantasies, I love him! Croly.
Thy heart is in the upper world, where fleet the Chamois bounds, Thy heart is where the mountain-fir shakes to the torrent-sounds; And where the snow-peaks gleam like stars, through the stillness of the air, And where the Lauwine's peal is heard—Hunter! thy heart is there!
I know thou lov'st me well, dear Friend! but better, better far, Thou lov'st that high and haughty life, with rocks and storms at war; In the green sunny vales with me, thy spirit would but pine— And yet I will be thine, my Love! and yet I will be thine!
And I will not seek to woo thee down from those thy native heights, With the sweet song, our land's own song, of pastoral delights; For thou must live as eagles live, thy path is not as mine— And yet I will be thine, my Love! and yet I will be thine.
And I will leave my blessed home, my Father’s joyous hearth, With all the voices meeting there in tenderness and mirth, With all the kind and laughing eyes, that in its fire-light shine, To sit forsaken in thy hut,—yet know that thou art mine!
It is my youth, it is my bloom, it is my glad free heart, That I cast away for thee—for thee—all reckless as thou art! With tremblings and with vigils lone, I bind myself to dwell Yet, yet I would not change that lot,—oh no! I love too well!
A mournful thing is love which grows to one so wild as thou, With that bright restlessness of eye, that tameless fire of brow! Mournful!—but dearer far I call its mingled fear and pride, And the trouble of its happiness, than aught on earth beside.
To listen for thy step in vain, to start at every breath, To watch through long long nights of storm, to sleep and dream of death, To wake in doubt and loneliness—this doom I know is mine,— And yet I will be thine, my Love! and yet I will be thine!
That I may greet thee from thine Alps, when thence thou com'st at last, That I may hear thy thrilling voice tell o'er each danger past, That I may kneel and pray for thee, and win thee aid divine,— For this I will be thine, my Love! for this I will be thine!
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/The Dreaming Child

THE DREAMING CHILD.
Alas! what kind of grief should thy years know? Thy brow and cheek are smooth as waters be When no breath troubles them. Beaumont and Fletcher.
And is there sadness in thy dreams, my boy? What should the cloud be made of?—blessed child! Thy spirit, borne upon a breeze of joy, All day hath ranged through sunshine, clear, yet mild:
And now thou tremblest!—wherefore?—in thy soul There lies no past, no future.—Thou hast heard No sound of presage from the distance roll, Thy heart bears traces of no arrowy word.
From thee no love hath gone; thy mind's young eye Hath look'd not into Death's, and thence become A questioner of mute Eternity, A weary searcher for a viewless home:
Nor hath thy sense been quicken'd unto pain, By feverish watching for some step beloved; Free are thy thoughts, an ever-changeful train, Glancing like dewdrops, and as lightly moved.
Yet now, on billows of strange passion toss'd, How art thou wilder'd in the cave of sleep! My gentle child! 'midst what dim phantoms lost, Thus in mysterious anguish dost thou weep?
Awake! they sadden me—those early tears, First gushings of the strong dark river's flow, That must o'ersweep thy soul with coming years Th' unfathomable flood of human woe!
Awful to watch, ev'n rolling through a dream, Forcing wild spray-drops but from childhood's eyes! Wake, wake! as yet thy life's transparent stream Should wear the tinge of none but summer skies.
Come from the shadow of those realms unknown, Where now thy thoughts dismay'd and darkling rove; Come to the kindly region all thine own, The home, still bright for thee with guardian love.
Happy, fair child! that yet a mother's voice Can win thee back from visionary strife!— Oh! shall my soul, thus waken'd to rejoice, Start from the dreamlike wilderness of life?
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/The Charmed Picture

THE CHARMED PICTURE.
Oh! that those lips had language!—Life hath pass'd With me but roughly since I saw thee last. Cowper.
Thine eyes are charm'd—thine earnest eyes—  Thou image of the dead! A spell within their sweetness lies,  A virtue thence is shed.
Oft in their meek blue light enshrined,  A blessing seems to be, And sometimes there my wayward mind  A still reproach can see:
And sometimes Pity—soft and deep,  And quivering through a tear; Even as if Love in Heaven could weep,  For Grief left drooping here.
And oh! my spirit needs that balm,  Needs it 'midst fitful mirth; And in the night-hour's haunted calm,  And by the lonely hearth.
Look on me thus, when hollow praise  Hath made the weary pine For one true tone of other days,  One glance of love like thine!
Look on me thus, when sudden glee  Bears my quick heart along, On wings that struggle to be free,  As bursts of skylark song.
In vain, in vain!—too soon are felt  The wounds they cannot flee; Better in childlike tears to melt,  Pouring my soul on thee!
Sweet face, that o'er my childhood shone,  Whence is thy power of change, Thus ever shadowing back my own,  The rapid and the strange?
Whence are they charm'd—those earnest eyes?  —I know the mystery well! In mine own trembling bosom lies  The spirit of the spell!
Of Memory, Conscience, Love, 'tis born—  Oh! change no longer, thou! For ever be the blessing worn  On thy pure thoughtful brow!
# Self-Reliance

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Self-Reliance."
* 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.
* Self-Reliance, an essay by Ralph Waldo Emerson
* Self-Reliance, a poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
* Self-Reliance, non-fiction book by Dorothy Canfield
# Self-confident Youth

"The earth is mine and its myriad flowers"
* Coates, Florence Earle (1915), "Self-confident Youth" in Lippincott's Monthly Magazine (January 1915).
* Coates, Florence Earle (1916), "Self-confident Youth" in Poems II.

## References

* ↑ View this version at Google Books.
# Selig v. Hamilton

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
234 U.S. 652
Selig v. Hamilton
Argued: May 6, 1913. --- Decided: June 22, 1914
[Syllabus from pages 652-654 intentionally omitted]
Messrs. Abram I. Elkus and Wesley S. Sawyer for plaintiff in error.
[Argument of Counsel from page 654 intentionally omitted.]
Messrs. James E. Trask, E. H. Morphy, and John J. Clark for defendant in error.
Mr. Justice Hughes 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
# Sellers v. Laird

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.

## Dissenting Opinion

    Douglas
United States Supreme Court
395 U.S. 950
Cleveland L. SELLERS, Jr., petitioner, v. Melvin R. LAIRD, Secretary of Defense, et al.
Charles Morgan, Jr., Reber F. Boult, Jr., Howard Moore, Jr., Morris Brown, Melvin L. Wulf, Martin Garbus, and Eleanor Holmes Norton, for petitioner.
Solicitor General Griswold, Assistant Attorney General Weisl, Morton Hollander and Robert V. Zener, for respondents.
Petition for writ of certiorari to the United States 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
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/Sadness and Mirth

SADNESS AND MIRTH.
Nay, these wild fits of uncurb'd laughter Athwart the gloomy tenor of your mind, As it has lower'd of late, so keenly cast, Unsuited seem, and strange. Oh! nothing strange! Didst thou ne'er see the swallow's veering breast, Winging the air beneath some murky cloud, In the sunn'd glimpses of a troubled day, Shiver in silvery brightness? Or boatman's oar, as vivid lightning flash In the faint gleam, that like a spirit's path, Tracks the still waters of some sullen lake? O, gentle friend! Chide not her mirth, who yesterday was sad, And may be so to-morrow! Joanna Baillie.
Ye met at the stately feasts of old, Where the bright wine foam'd over sculptured gold, Sadness and Mirth!—ye were mingled there With the sound of the lyre in the scented air;
As the cloud and the lightning are blent on high, Ye mix'd in the gorgeous revelry.
For there hung o'er those banquets of yore a gloom, A thought and a shadow of the tomb; It gave to the flute-notes an under-tone, To the rose a colouring not its own, To the breath of the myrtle a mournful power— Sadness and Mirth! ye had each your dower!
Ye met when the triumph swept proudly by, With the Roman eagles through the sky! I know that ev'n then, in his hour of pride, The soul of the mighty within him died; That a void in his bosom lay darkly still, Which the music of victory might never fill!
Thou wert there, oh! Mirth! swelling on the shout, Till the temples, like echo-caves, rang out; Thine were the garlands, the songs, the wine, All the rich voices in air were thine,
The incense, the sunshine—but, Sadness! thy part, Deepest of all, was the victor's heart!
Ye meet at the bridal with flower and tear; Strangely and wildly ye meet by the bier! As the gleam from a sea-bird's white wing shed, Crosses the storm in its path of dread; As a dirge meets the breeze of a summer sky— Sadness and Mirth! so ye come and fly!
Ye meet in the poet's haunted breast, Darkness and rainbow, alike its guest! When the breath of the violet is out in spring, When the woods with the wakening of music ring, O'er his dreamy spirit your currents pass, Like shadow and sunlight o'er mountain grass.
When will your parting be, Sadness and Mirth? Bright stream and dark one!—oh! never on earth; Never while triumphs and tombs are so near, While Death and Love walk the same dim sphere,
While flowers unfold where the storm may sweep, While the heart of man is a soundless deep!
But there smiles a land, oh! ye troubled pair! Where ye have no part in the summer air. Far from the breathings of changeful skies, Over the seas and the graves it lies; Where the day of the lightning and cloud is done, And joy reigns alone, as the lonely sun!
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/Song of Emigration

SONG OF EMIGRATION.
There was heard a song on the chiming sea, A mingled breathing of grief and glee; Man's voice, unbroken by sighs, was there, Filling with triumph the sunny air; Of fresh green lands, and of pastures new, It sang, while the bark through the surges flew.
But ever and anon
 A murmur of farewell Told, by its plaintive tone,  That from woman's lip it fell.
"Away, away o'er the foaming main!" —This was the free and the joyous strain—
"There are clearer skies than ours, afar, We will shape our course by a brighter star; There are plains whose verdure no foot hath press'd, And whose wealth is all for the first brave guest."
"But alas! that we should go"  —Sang the farewell voices then— "From the homesteads, warm and low,  By the brook and in the glen!"
"We will rear new homes under trees that glow, As if gems were the fruitage of every bough; O'er our white walls we will train the vine, And sit in its shadow at day's decline; And watch our herds, as they range at will Through the green savannas, all bright and still."
"But woe for that sweet shade  Of the flowering orchard-trees,
Where first our children play'd  'Midst the birds and honey-bees!"
"All, all our own shall the forests be, As to the bound of the roebuck free! None shall say, 'Hither, no further pass!' We will track each step through the wavy grass; We will chase the elk in his speed and might, And bring proud spoils to the hearth at night."
"But, oh! the grey church-tower,  And the sound of Sabbath-bell, And the shelter'd garden-bower,—  We have bid them all farewell!"
"We will give the names of our fearless race To each bright river whose course we trace; We will leave our memory with mounts and floods, And the path of our daring in boundless woods!
And our works unto many a lake's green shore, Where the Indian's graves lay, alone, before."
"But who shall teach the flowers,  Which our children loved, to dwell In a soil that is not ours?  —Home, home and friends, farewell!"
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/Death and the Warrior

DEATH AND THE WARRIOR.
"Ay, Warrior, arm! and wear thy plume  On a proud and fearless brow! I am the lord of the lonely tomb,  And a mightier one than thou!
"Bid thy soul's love farewell, young chief,  Bid her a long farewell! Like the morning's dew shall pass that grief —  Thou comest with me to dwell!
"Thy bark may rush through the foaming deep,  Thy steed o'er the breezy hill; But they bear thee on to a place of sleep,  Narrow, and cold, and chill!"
"Was the voice I heard, thy voice, oh Death?  And is thy day so near? Then on the field shall my life's last breath  Mingle with victory's cheer!
"Banners shall float, with the trumpet's note,  Above me as I die! And the palm-tree wave o'er my noble grave,  Under the Syrian sky.
"High hearts shall burn in the royal hall,  When the minstrel names that spot; And the eyes I love shall weep my fall,—  Death, Death! I fear thee not!"
"Warrior! thou bearest a haughty heart;  But I can bend its pride! How shouldst thou know that thy soul will part  In the hour of victory's tide?
"It may be far from thy steel-clad bands,  That I shall make thee mine; It may be lone on the desert sands,  Where men for fountains pine!
"It may be deep amidst heavy chains,  In some strong Paynim hold;— I have slow dull steps and lingering pains,  Wherewith to tame the bold!"
"Death, Death! I go to a doom unblest,  If this indeed must be; But the cross is bound upon my breast,  And I may not shrink for thee!
"Sound, clarion, sound!—for my vows are given  To the cause of the holy shrine; I bow my soul to the will of Heaven,  O Death!—and not to thine!"
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/Italian Girl's Hymn to the Virgin

ITALIAN GIRL'S HYMN TO THE VIRGIN.
O sanctissima, o purissima !  Dulcis Virgo Maria, Mater amata, intemerata,  Ora, ora pro nobis. Sicilian Mariner's Hymn.
In the deep hour of dreams, Through the dark woods, and past the moaning sea,  And by the star-light gleams, Mother of Sorrows! lo, I come to thee.
 Unto thy shrine I bear Night-blowing flowers, like my own heart, to lie  All, all unfolded there, Beneath the meekness of thy pitying eye.
For thou, that once didst move, In thy still beauty, through an early home,  Thou know'st the grief, the love, The fear of woman's soul;—to thee I come!
 Many, and sad, and deep, Were the thoughts folded in thy silent breast;  Thou, too, couldst watch and weep— Hear, gentlest mother! hear a heart opprest!
 There is a wandering bark Bearing one from me o'er the restless waves;  Oh! let thy soft eye mark His course;—be with him, Holiest, guide and save!
 My soul is on that way; My thoughts are travellers o'er the waters dim  Through the long weary day, I walk, o'ershadow'd by vain dreams of him.
Aid him,—and me, too, aid! Oh! 'tis not well, this earthly love's excess!  On thy weak child is laid The burden of too deep a tenderness.
 Too much o'er him is pour'd My being's hope—scarce leaving Heaven a part;  Too fearfully adored, Oh! make not him the chastener of my heart!
 I tremble with a sense Of grief to be;—I hear a warning low—  Sweet mother! call me hence! This wild idolatry must end in woe.
 The troubled joy of life, Love's lightning happiness, my soul hath known;  And, worn with feverish strife, Would fold its wings;—take back, take back thine own!
Hark! how the wind swept by! The tempest's voice comes rolling o'er the wave—  Hope of the sailor's eye, And maiden's heart, blest mother, guide and save!
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/Miscellaneous Poems

MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/Parting Words

PARTING WORDS.
One struggle more, and I am free. Byron.
Leave me, oh! leave me!—unto all below Thy presence binds me with too deep a spell; Thou mak'st those mortal regions, whence I go, Too mighty in their loveliness—farewell, That I may part in peace!
Leave me!—thy footstep, with its lightest sound, The very shadow of thy waving hair, Wakes in my soul a feeling too profound, Too strong for aught that loves and dies, to bear— Oh! bid the conflict cease!
I hear thy whisper—and the warm tears gush Into mine eyes, the quick pulse thrills my heart; Thou bid'st the peace, the reverential hush, The still submission, from my thoughts depart; Dear one! this must not be.
The past looks on me from thy mournful eye, The beauty of our free and vernal days; Our communings with sea, and hill, and sky— Oh! take that bright world from my spirit's gaze! Thou art all earth to me!
Shut out the sunshine from my dying room, The jasmine's breath, the murmur of the bee; Let not the joy of bird-notes pierce the gloom! They speak of love, of summer, and of thee, Too much—and death is here!
Doth our own spring make happy music now, From the old beech-roots flashing into day?
Are the pure lilies imaged in its flow? Alas! vain thoughts! that fondly thus can stray From the dread hour so near!
If I could but draw courage from the light Of thy clear eye, that ever shone to bless! —Not now! 'twill not be now!—my aching sight Drinks from that fount a flood of tenderness, Bearing all strength away!
Leave me!—thou com'st between my heart and Heaven! I would be still, in voiceless prayer to die! —Why must our souls thus love, and then be riven? —Return! thy parting wakes mine agony! —Oh, yet awhile delay!
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/Tasso's Coronation

TASSO'S CORONATION.
A crown of victory! a triumphal song! Oh! call some friend, upon whose pitying heart The weary one, may calmly sink to rest: Let some kind voice, beside his lowly couch, Pour the last prayer for mortal agony!
A trumpet's note is in the sky, in the glorious Roman sky, Whose dome hath rung, so many an age, to the voice of victory; There is crowding to the capitol, the imperial streets along, For again a conqueror must be crown'd,—a kingly child of song:
Yet his chariot lingers, Yet around his home Broods a shadow silently, 'Midst the joy of Rome.
A thousand thousand laurel boughs are waving wide and far, To shed out their triumphal gleams around his rolling car; A thousand haunts of olden gods have given their wealth of flowers, To scatter o'er his path of fame bright hues in gem-like showers.
Peace! within his chamber Low the mighty lies; With a cloud of dreams on his noble brow, And a wandering in his eyes.
Sing, sing for him, the lord of song, for him, whose rushing strain In mastery o'er the spirit sweeps, like a strong wind o'er the main! Whose voice lives deep in burning hearts, for ever there to dwell, As full-toned oracles are shrined in a temple's holiest cell.
Yes! for him, the victor, Sing,—but low, sing low! A soft sad miserere chant For a soul about to go!
The sun, the sun of Italy is pouring o'er his way, Where the old three hundred triumphs moved, a flood of golden day; Streaming through every haughty arch of the Cæsars’ past renown— Bring forth, in that exulting light, the conqueror for his crown!
Shut the proud bright sunshine From the fading sight! There needs no ray by the bed of death, Save the holy taper's light.
The wreath is twined,—the way is strewn—the lordly train are met— The streets are hung with coronals—why stays the minstrel yet? Shout! as an army shouts in joy around a royal chief— Bring forth the bard of chivalry, the bard of love and grief!
Silence! forth we bring him, In his last array; From love and grief the freed, the flown— Way for the bier—make way!
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/Nature's Farewell

NATURE'S FAREWELL.
The beautiful is vanish'd, and returns not. Coleridge's Wallenstein.
A youth rode forth from his childhood's home, Through the crowded paths of the world to roam, And the green leaves whisper'd, as he pass'd, "Wherefore, thou dreamer, away so fast?
"Knew'st thou with what thou art parting here, Long wouldst thou linger in doubt and fear; Thy heart's light laughter, thy sunny hours, Thou hast left in our shades with the spring's wild flowers.
"Under the arch by our mingling made, Thou and thy brother have gaily play'd; Ye may meet again where ye roved of yore, But as ye have met there—oh! never more!"
On rode the youth—and the boughs among, Thus the free birds o'er his pathway sung: "Wherefore so fast unto life away? Thou art leaving for ever thy joy in our lay!
"Thou mayst come to the summer woods again, And thy heart have no echo to greet their strain; Afar from the foliage its love will dwell— A change must pass o'er thee—farewell, farewell!"
On rode the youth:—and the founts and streams Thus mingled a voice with his joyous dreams: —"We have been thy playmates through many a day, Wherefore thus leave us?—oh! yet delay!
"Listen but once to the sound of our mirth! For thee 'tis a melody passing from earth. Never again wilt thou find in its flow, The peace it could once on thy heart bestow.
"Thou wilt visit the scenes of thy childhood's glee, With the breath of the world on thy spirit free; Passion and sorrow its depth will have stirr'd, And the singing of waters be vainly heard.
"Thou wilt bear in our gladsome laugh no part— What should it do for a burning heart? Thou wilt bring to the banks of our freshest rill, Thirst which no fountain on earth may still.
"Farewell!—when thou comest again to thine own, Thou wilt miss from our music its loveliest tone; Mournfully true is the tale we tell— Yet on, fiery dreamer! farewell, farewell!"
And a something of gloom on his spirit weigh'd, As he caught the last sounds of his native shade; But he knew not, till many a bright spell broke, How deep were the oracles Nature spoke!
# Songs of the Affections, with Other Poems/Second Sight

SECOND SIGHT.
Ne'er err'd the prophet heart that grief inspired, Though joy's illusions mock their votarist. Maturin.
A mournful gift is mine, O friends!  A mournful gift is mine! A murmur of the soul which blends  With the flow of song and wine.
An eye that through the triumph's hour,  Beholds the coming woe, And dwells upon the faded flower  'Midst the rich summer's glow.
Ye smile to view fair faces bloom  Where the father's board is spread; I see the stillness and the gloom  Of a home whence all are fled.
I see the wither'd garlands lie  Forsaken on the earth, While the lamps yet burn, and the dancers fly  Through the ringing hall of mirth.
I see the blood-red future stain  On the warrior's gorgeous crest; And the bier amidst the bridal train  When they come with roses drest.
I hear the still small moan of Time,  Through the ivy branches made, Where the palace, in its glory's prime,  With the sunshine stands array'd.
The thunder of the seas I hear,  The shriek along the wave, When the bark sweeps forth, and song and cheer  Salute the parting brave.
With every breeze a spirit sends  To me some warning sign:— A mournful gift is mine, O friends!  A mournful gift is mine!
Oh! prophet heart! thy grief, thy power,  To all deep souls belong; The shadow in the sunny hour,  The wail in the mirthful song.
Their sight is all too sadly clear—  For them a veil is riven: Their piercing thoughts repose not here,  Their home is but in Heaven.