OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# My Ántonia

My Ántonia is the final book of Cather's "prairie trilogy" of novels, preceded by O Pioneers! and The Song of the Lark. This novel is considered Cather's first masterpiece. Cather was praised for bringing the American West to life and making it personally interesting.
The novel tells the stories of an orphaned boy from Virginia, Jim Burden, and the elder daughter in a family of Bohemian immigrants, Ántonia Shimerda, who are each brought as children to be pioneers in Nebraska towards the end of the 19th century. Both the pioneers who first break the prairie sod for farming, as well as of the harsh but fertile land itself, feature in this American novel. The first year in the very new place leaves strong impressions in both children, affecting them lifelong. Warning: template has been deprecated.
The copy presented here is the thirteenth impression of the first edition, printed in March, 1924, with illustrations by Władysław T. Benda.
MY ÁNTONIA
BY
WILLA SIBERT CATHER
Optima dies . . . prima fugit
Virgil
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY W. T. BENDA
BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON MIFFLIN COMPANY The Riverside Press Cambridge
TO
CARRIE AND IRENE MINER
In memory of affections old and true
CONTENTS
| Introduction | ix |
| BOOK I ||
| The Shimerdas | 3 |
| BOOK II ||
| The Hired Girls | 163 |
| BOOK III ||
| Lena Lingard | 291 |
| BOOK IV ||
| The Pioneer Woman's Story | 335 |
| BOOK V ||
| Cuzak's Boys | 369 |
COPYRIGHT, 1918, BY WILLA SIBERT CATHER
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Published September, 1918
SECOND IMPRESSION, SEPTEMBER, 1918
THIRD IMPRESSION, MAY, 1919
FOURTH IMPRESSION, SEPTEMBER, 1919
FIFTH IMPRESSION, FEBRUARY, 1920
SIXTH IMPRESSION, MARCH, 1921
SEVENTH IMPRESSION, OCTOBER, 1921
EIGHTH IMPRESSION, JUNE, 1922
NINTH IMPRESSION, AUGUST, 1922
TENTH IMPRESSION, DECEMBER, 1922
ELEVENTH IMPRESSION, MARCH, 1923
TWELFTH IMPRESSION, OCTOBER, 1923
THIRTEENTH IMPRESSION, MARCH, 1924
The Riverside Press
CAMBRIDGE · MASSACHUSETTS
PRINTED IN THE U.S.A.
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 1947, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 76 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
# Mycenaean Troy

New York: American Book Co., page Title
THE VANDERBILT ORIENTAL SERIES edited by Herbert Cushing Tolman and James Henry Stevenson
MYCENAEAN TROY
BASED ON DÖRPFELD'S EXCAVATIONS IN THE SIXTH OF THE NINE BURIED CITIES AT HISSARLIK
BY
HERBERT CUSHING TOLMAN, Ph.D., D.D. Professor of Greek in Vanderbilt University
AND
GILBERT CAMPBELL SCOGGIN, M.A. Instructor in the University School, Nashville, Tenn.
ILLUSTRATED
NEW YORK: CINCINNATI: CHICAGO AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY
TO THOMAS DAY SEYMOUR
ἀνδρὶ ἀγαθῷ καὶ σοφῷ τὰ μεγάλα
The massive lower wall, with the advancing angles, is seen at a; while the upper wall can be distinguished at d. The side walls of the Tower VI h jut out at b and c. The wall e is a portion of the superstructure of the tower.
Fuit Ilium et ingens Gloria Teucrorum
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Page
The Troad
The Mycenaean City
The Walls of the Citadel
The Gates
The Towers
The Inner Citadel
The Mycenaean Civilization
The Mycenaean Age and the Homeric Poems
List of illustrations
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 1945, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 78 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
# My wheel is in the dark!
### Version 1

My Wheel is in the dark. I cannot see a spoke - Yet know it's dripping feet Go round and round.
My foot is on the tide - An unfrequented road Yet have all roads A "Clearing" at the end.
Some have resigned the Loom - Some - in the busy tomb Find quaint employ. Some with new - stately feet Pass royal thro' the gate Flinging the problem back, at you and I.

### Version 2

My Wheel is in the dark! I cannot see a spoke Yet know it's dripping feet Go round and round.
My foot is on the Tide! An unfrequented road - Yet have all roads A "Clearing" at the end -
Some have resigned the Loom - Some in the busy tomb Find quaint employ -
Some with new - stately feet - Pass royal thro' the gate - Flinging the problem back At you and I!

### Version 3

My wheel is in the dark! I cannot see a spoke Yet know its dripping feet Go round and round.
My foot is on the Tide! An unfrequented road — Yet have all roads A clearing at the end —
Some have resigned the Loom — Some in the busy tomb Find quaint employ —
Some with new — stately feet — Pass royal through the gate — Flinging the problem back At you and I!
# Mountain Interval/A Patch of Old Snow

THERE’S a patch of old snow in a corner  That I should have guessed Was a blow-away paper the rain  Had brought to rest.
It is speckled with grime as if  Small print overspread it, The news of a day I’ve forgotten—  If I ever read it.
# Mount Seir, Sinai and Western Palestine/end matter

Layout 2
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
With Fifteen Plates and Maps, and numerous Woodcut Illustrations.
A Treatise on Building and Ornamental Stones of Great Britain and Foreign Countries. With Illustrations. Medium 8vo, 12s. Macmillan and Co.
EDWARD STANFORD, 55, CHARING CROSS, S.W.
# Mountain Interval/A Girl's Garden

A NEIGHBOR of mine in the village Likes to tell how one spring When she was a girl on the farm, she did A childlike thing.
One day she asked her father To give her a garden plot To plant and tend and reap herself, And he said, “Why not?”
In casting about for a corner He thought of an idle bit Of walled-off ground where a shop had stood, And he said, “Just it.”
And he said, “That ought to make you An ideal one-girl farm, And give you a chance to put some strength On your slim-jim arm.”
It was not enough of a garden, Her father said, to plough; So she had to work it all by hand, But she don’t mind now.
She wheeled the dung in the wheelbarrow Along a stretch of road; But she always ran away and left Her not-nice load.
And hid from anyone passing. And then she begged the seed. She says she thinks she planted one Of all things but weed.
A hill each of potatoes, Radishes, lettuce, peas, Tomatoes, beets, beans, pumpkins, corn, And even fruit trees
And yes, she has long mistrusted That a cider apple tree In bearing there to-day is hers, Or at least may be.
Her crop was a miscellany When all was said and done, A little bit of everything, A great deal of none.
Now when she sees in the village How village things go, Just when it seems to come in right, She says, “I know!
It’s as when I was a farmer——” Oh, never by way of advice! And she never sins by telling the tale To the same person twice.
# Mountain Interval

poetry collection first published by Holt in 1916. Frost made several alterations in the sequencing of the collection and released the new edition in 1920. OCLC:511486
* The Road Not Taken
* Christmas Trees
* An Old Man's Winter Night
* The Exposed Nest
* A Patch of Old Snow
* In the Home Stretch
* The Telephone
* Meeting and Passing
* Hyla Brook
* The Oven Bird
* Bond and Free
* Birches
* Pea Brush
* Putting in the Seed
* A Time to Talk
* The Cow in Apple Time
* An Encounter
* Range-finding
* The Hill Wife
* The Bonfire
* A Girl's Garden
* Locked Out
* The Last Word of a Bluebird
* “Out, Out—”
* Brown's Descent, or the Willy-nilly Slide
* The Gum-gatherer
* The Line-gang
* The Vanishing Red
* Snow
* The Sound of the Trees
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 1963, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 60 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
# Mountain Ballad

* related portals: Czech literature.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
English-language translations of Ballada horská include:
* Mountain Ballad, in Bohemian legends and other poems by Flora Pauline Wilson Kopta (1896)
* Mountain Ballad, in A Book of Czech Verse by Alfred French (1958)
# Mir Hardware Heritage/Title Page

​NASA RP 1357
Mir Hardware Heritage
David S. F. Portree
March 1995
# Mir Hardware Heritage/Station Modules and Tug Programs

Figure 3-1. Station modules and tugs evolution. The chart above summarizes the evolution of vehicles originally developed as transport craft for the Almaz space station program and subsequently reapplied to many new functions. The narrow light gray arrow coming down from the top leads from the Soyuz Programs chart (figure 1-1). The broad gray arrows trace what is generally known in the West about the evolution of Soviet/Russian space station modules and tugs. The black-lined box encloses the TKS program, and the black arrows (solid and dashed) lead to the Station Programs chart (figure 2-1).
# Mir Hardware Heritage/Station Programs

Station Programs
Figure 2-1. Station evolution. The chart above summarizes the development of the Soviet/Russian space stations and derivatives. Light gray arrows trace the evolution of space stations and satellites derived from space station hardware. Dark gray arrows trace the influence of concepts on later flown hardware. The stippled arrow leads from the Soyuz Programs chart (figure 1-1). Solid black arrows indicate modules joined to Mir, while dashed black arrows stand for modules to be added to Mir in the near future. These arrows lead from the Station Modules and Tug Programs chart (figure 3-1).
# Mir Hardware Heritage/Title Page 2

​NASA Reference Publication 1357
Mir Hardware Heritage
David S. F. Portree
Information Services Division
Lyndon B. Johnson Space Center
Houston, Texas
Johnson Space Center Reference Series
March 1995
# Mir Hardware Heritage/Soyuz Programs

Soyuz Programs
* Figure 1-1. Soyuz evolution. The light gray arrows trace the evolution of flown spacecraft. The dark gray arrows show influence of concepts and flown spacecraft on other concepts and flown spacecraft. Broad black lines enclose distinct programs. The stippled and light gray arrows pointing downward, off the chart, connect to the Space Station chart (figure 2-1) and the Station Modules and Tug Programs chart (figure 3-1), respectively.
# Mrs. Spring Fragrance (1912)/The Deceptive Mat

THE DECEPTIVE MAT
𝕎HEN Tsin Yen was about eight years old, he and his little brother were one fine day enjoying a game of battledore and shuttlecock on the green lawn, which their father had reserved as a ​playground for their use. The lawn was a part of a very elaborate garden laid out with many rare flowers and ferns and exquisite plants in costly porcelain jars. The whole was enclosed behind high walls.
It was a very warm day and the garden gate had been left open, so that the breeze could better blow within. A man stood outside the gate, watching the boys. He carried a small parcel under his arm.
"Will not the jewel eyes of the honorable little ones deign to turn my way?" he cried at last.
Tsin Yen and Tsin Yo looked over at him.
"What is your wish, honorable sir?" asked Tsin Yen.
And the man replied: "That I may be allowed space in which to spread my mat on your green. The road outside is dusty and the insects are more lively than suits my melancholy mood."
"Spread your mat, good sir," hastily answered Tsin Yen, giving a quick glance at the small parcel, and returning to his play.
The man began quietly to unroll his bundle, Tsin Yen and Tsin Yo being too much interested in their play to pay much attention to him. But a few minutes passed, however, before the stranger touched Tsin Yen's sleeve, and bade him stand aside.
​"For what reason, honorable sir?" asked Tsin Yen, much surprised.
"Did not you consent to my spreading my mat, most ingenuous son of an illustrious father?" returned the man. He pointed to his mat. Of cobweb texture and cobweb color, it already covered almost the whole green lawn, and there was a portion yet unrolled.
"How could I know that so small a bundle would make so large a mat?" exclaimed Tsin Yen protestingly.
"But you should have thought, my son," said the father of Tsin Yen, who now appeared upon the scene. "If you had thought before consenting to the spreading of the mat, you would not, this fine afternoon, be obliged to yield your playground to a stranger. However, the word of a Tsin must be made good. Stand aside, my sons."
So Tsin Yen and Tsin Yo stood aside and watched with indignant eyes the deceptive mat unrolled over the whole space where they were wont to play. When it was spread to its full capacity, the man seated himself in the middle, and remained thereon until the setting of the sun.
And that is the reason why Tsin Yen, when he became a man, always thought for three minutes before allowing any word to escape his lips.
# Mrs. Spring Fragrance (1912)/The Garments of the Fairies

THE GARMENTS OF THE FAIRIES
"𝕎HY do we never see the fairies?" asked Mermei.
"Because," replied her mother, "the fairies do not wish to be seen.
"But why, honorable mother, do they not wish to be seen?"
​"Would my jade jewel wish to show herself to strangers if she wore no tunic or shoes or rosettes?"
Mermei glanced down at her blue silk tunic embroidered in white and gold, at her scarlet shoes beaded at the tips so as to resemble the heads of kittens; and looking over to a mirror hung on the side of the wall where the sun shone, noted the purple rosettes in her hair and the bright butterfly's wing.
"Oh, no! honorable mother," said she, shaking her head with quite a shocked air.
"Then, when you hear the reason why the fairies do not appear to you except in your dreams, you will know that they are doing just as you would do were you in a fairy's shoes."
"A story! A story!" cried Mermei, clapping her hands and waving her fan, and Choy and Fei and Wei and Sui, who were playing battledore and shuttlecock on the green, ran into the house and grouped themselves around Mermei and the mother. They all loved stories.
"Many, many years ago," began the mother of Mermei, "when the sun was a warm-hearted but mischievous boy, playing all kinds of pranks with fruits and flowers and growing things, and his sister, the moon, was too young to be sad and serious, the fairies met together ​by night. The sun, of course, was not present, and the moon had withdrawn behind a cloud. Stars alone shone in the quiet sky. By their light the fairies looked upon each other, and found themselves so fair and radiant in their robes of varied hues, all wonderfully fashioned, fringed and laced, some bright and brilliant, others, delicate and gauzy, but each and all a perfect dream of loveliness, that they danced for very joy in themselves and the garments in which they were arrayed.
"The dance being over, the queen of all sighed a fragrant sigh of happiness upon the air, and bowing to her lovely companions said:
"'Sweet sisters, the mission of the fairies is to gladden the hearts of the mortals. Let us, therefore, this night, leave behind us on the earth the exquisite garments whose hues and fashions have given us so much pleasure. And because we may not be seen uncovered, let us from henceforth be invisible.'
"'We will! We will!' cried the sister fairies. They were all good and kind of heart, and much as they loved their dainty robes, they loved better to give happiness to others.
"And that is why the fairies are invisible, and why we have the flowers."
"The flowers!" cried Mermei. "Why the flowers?"
​"And the fairies' garments! Where can we find them?" asked Fei with the starry eyes.
"In the gardens, in the forests, and by the streams," answered the mother. "The flowers, dear children, are the bright-hued garments which the fairies left behind them when they flew from earth, never to return again, save invisible."
# Mrs. Spring Fragrance (1912)/The Dreams that Failed

THE DREAMS THAT FAILED
ℙING SIK and Soon Yen sat by the roadside under a spreading olive tree. They were on their way to market to sell two little pigs. With the money to be obtained from the sale of the little pigs, they were to buy caps and shoes with which to attend school.
"When I get to be a man," said Ping Sik, "I will be so great and so glorious that the Emperor will allow me to wear a three-eyed peacock feather, and whenever I walk abroad, all who meet me will bow to the ground."
"And I," said Soon Yen, "will be a great general. The reins of my steeds will be purple and scarlet, and in my cap will wave a bright blue plume."
"I shall be such a great poet and scholar," continued Ping Sik, "that the greatest ​university in the Middle Kingdom will present me with a vase encrusted with pearls."
"And I shall be so vahant and trustworthy that the Pearly Emperor will appoint me commander-in-chief of his army, and his enemies will tremble at the sound of my name."
"I shall wear a yellow jacket with the names of three ancestors inscribed thereon in seven colors."
"And I shall wear silk robes spun by princesses, and a cloak of throat skins of sables."
"And I shall live in a mansion of marble and gold."
"And I in halls of jadestone."
"And I will own silk and tea plantations and tens of thousands of rice farms."
"All the bamboo country shall be mine, and the rivers and sea shall be full of my fishing boats, junks, and craft of all kinds."
"People will bow down before me and cry: 'Oh, most excellent, most gracious, most beautiful!'"
"None will dare offend so mighty a man as I shall be!"
"O ho! You good-for-nothing rascals!" cried the father of Ping Sik. "What are you doing loafing under a tree when you should be speeding to market?"
​"And the little pigs, where are they?" cried the father of Soon Yen.
The boys looked down at the baskets which had held the little pigs. While they had been dreaming of future glories, the young porkers had managed to scramble out of the loosely woven bamboo thatch of which the baskets were made.
The fathers of Ping Sik and Soon Yen produced canes.
"Without shoes and caps," said they, "you cannot attend school. Therefore, back to the farm and feed pigs."
# New poems and variant readings/To Rosabelle

TO ROSABELLE
When my young lady has grown great and staid, And in long raiment wondrously arrayed, She may take pleasure with a smile to know How she delighted men-folk long ago. For her long after, then, this tale I tell Of the two fans and fairy Rosabelle. Hot was the day; her weary sire and I Sat in our chairs companionably nigh, Each with a headache sat her sire and I.
Instant the hostess waked: she viewed the scene, Divined the giants' languor by their mien, And with hospitable care Tackled at once an Atlantean chair. Her pigmy stature scarce attained the seat— She dragged it where she would, and with her feet Surmounted; thence, a Phaeton launched, she crowned The vast plateau of the piano, found And culled a pair of fans; wherewith equipped, Our mountaineer back to the level slipped; And being landed, with considerate eyes, Betwixt her elders dealt her double prize; The small to me, the greater to her sire. As painters now advance and now retire ​Before the growing canvas, and anon Once more approach and put the climax on: So she awhile withdrew, her piece she viewed— For half a moment half supposed it good— Spied her mistake, nor sooner spied than ran To remedy; and with the greater fan, In gracious better thought, equipped the guest.
From ill to well, from better on to best, Arts move; the homely, like the plastic kind; And high ideals fired that infant mind. Once more she backed, once more a space apart Considered and reviewed her work of art: Doubtful at first, and gravely yet awhile; Till all her features blossomed in a smile. And the child, waking at the call of bliss, To each she ran, and took and gave a kiss.
# New poems and variant readings/To the Commissioners of Northern Lights

TO THE COMMISSIONERS OF NORTHERN LIGHTS
I send to you, commissioners, A paper that may please ye, sirs (For troth they say it might be worse An' I believe't) And on your business lay my curse Before I leav't.
I thocht I'd serve wi' you, sirs, yince But I've thocht better of it since; The maitter I will nowise mince, But tell ye true: I'll service wi' some ither prince, An' no wi' you.
​I've no been very deep, ye'll think, Cam' delicately to the brink An' when the water gart me shrink Straucht took the rue, An' didna stoop my fill to drink— I own it true.
I kent on cape and isle, a light Burnt fair an' clearly ilka night; But at the service I took fright, As sune's I saw, An' being still a neophite Gaed straucht awa'.
Anither course I now begin, The weeg I'll cairry for my sin, The court my voice shall echo in, An'—wha can tell?— Some ither day I may be yin O' you mysel'.
# New poems and variant readings/Variant Form of the Preceding Poem

VARIANT FORM OF THE PRECEDING POEM
Come to me, all ye that labour; I will give your spirits rest; Here apart in starry quiet I will give you rest. Come to me, ye heavy laden, sin defiled and care opprest, In your father's quiet mansions, soon to prove a welcome guest. But an hour you bear your trial, sin and suffer, bleed and die; But an hour you toil and combat here in day's inspiring eye. See the feet of your deliverer; lo, the hour of freedom nigh.
# New poems and variant readings/To Ottilie

TO OTTILIE
You remember, I suppose, How the August sun arose, And how his face Woke to trill and carolette All the cages that were set About the place.
In the tender morning light All around lay strange and bright And still and sweet, And the gray doves unafraid Went their morning promenade Along the street.
# New poems and variant readings/To Sydney

TO SYDNEY
Not thine where marble-still and white Old statues share the tempered light And mock the uneven modern flight, But in the stream Of daily sorrow and delight To seek a theme.
I too, O friend, have steeled my heart Boldly to choose the better part, To leave the beaten ways of art, And wholly free To dare, beyond the scanty chart, The deeper sea.
All vain restrictions left behind, Frail bark! I loose my anchored mind And large, before the prosperous wind Desert the strand— A new Columbus sworn to find The morning land.
Nor too ambitious, friend. To thee I own my weakness. Not for me To sing the enfranchised nations' glee, Or count the cost Of warships foundered far at sea And battles lost.
​High on the far-seen, sunny hills, Morning-content my bosom fills; Well-pleased, I trace the wandering rills And learn their birth. Far off, the clash of sovereign wills May shake the earth.
The nimble circuit of the wheel, The uncertain poise of merchant weal, Heaven of famine, fire and steel When nations fall; These, heedful, from afar I feel— I mark them all.
But not, my friend, not these I sing, My voice shall fill a narrower ring. Tired souls, that flag upon the wing, I seek to cheer: Brave wines to strengthen hope I bring, Life's cantineer!
Some song that shall be suppling oil To weary muscles strained with toil, Shall hearten for the daily moil, Or widely read Make sweet for him that tills the soil His daily bread.
​Such songs in my flushed hours I dream (High thought) instead of armour gleam Or warrior cantos ream by ream To load the shelves— Songs with a lilt of words, that seem To sing themselves.