OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 133/Issue 1716/"So hast du ganz und gar vergessen"

* Hast thou forgotten, quite forgotten, dear,
* That I possessed thy heart for many a year?
* Thy little heart, so small, so false, so sweet,
* Sweetest and falsest heart that ever beat.
* The love and pain hast thou forgotten, dear,
* That weighed upon my heart for many a year;
* I know not which was greater of the twain,
* Only that they were great, both love and pain.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 133/Issue 1716/In Absence

* IN ABSENCE.
* God keep you, dearest, all this lonely night.
* The winds are still,
* The moon drops down behind the western hill.
* God keep you safely, dearest, till the light!
* God keep you still, when slumber melts away,
* For care and strife
* Take up new arms to fret our waking life.
* God keep you through the battle of the day!
* God keep you! Nay, beloved soul, how vain,
* How poor is prayer!
* I can but say again, and yet again,
* God keep you every time and everywhere!
* Evening Post.M. A. De V.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 133/Issue 1716/Songs from H. Heine's "Buch der Lieder"

SONGS.
FROM H. HEINE'S "BUCH DER LIEDER."
I.
* Warm summer dwells upon thy cheeks
* And in thy dancing eyes;
* But in thy little heart, fair child,
* Cold, frosty winter lies.
* Yet these, I think, as years grow on,
* Will play a different part;
* Then, winter on thy cheeks shall be,
* And summer in thy heart.
II.
* Hast thou forgotten, quite forgotten, dear,
* That I possessed thy heart for many a year?
* Thy little heart, so small, so false, so sweet,
* Sweetest and falsest heart that ever beat.
* The love and pain hast thou forgotten, dear,
* That weighed upon my heart for many a year;
* I know not which was greater of the twain,
* Only that they were great, both love and pain.
III.
* I longed to linger, resting
* Beside you, free from care;
* But you ran off, protesting
* You had no time to spare.
* I vowed my soul should never
* Know other queen but you;
* You only laughed, however,
* And dropped a curtsy, too.
* All day you sorely tried me;
* And, not content with this,
* You cruelly denied me
* Even a farewell kiss.
* But if you will not soften,
* I shall survive it still;
* I've been through this so often,
* Sweet—and it does not kill.
* Examiner.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 169/Issue 2188/Death and Love

Originally published in Sunday Magazine.
I. Love willed that Death should occupy the house — Not hostilely — but like a generous foe Who, guest perforce, inflicts no needless throe, And scorns to jest, and gibe, and hold carouse.
And when the leaves were tender on the boughs, And white the maytree shone, and thick like snow, Death entered softly where Love bade him go, Obedient to the suzerain of his vows.
And unto one whom worldly strife perplexed, Whom sickness grieved and care made tremulous, The foeman pitying, brought the boon of peace.
"Or e'er these things his soul have greatly vexed," (Death spake, benign, compassionating us,) "The Master hath ordained that they shall cease."
 II. White lilac, sweetest may, exotics white, (Gifts of dear hearts) made beautiful the gloom, And breathed of blessedness to us on whom Had fallen regret and longing infinite.
Yet still we weep. Till one arrayed in light, Magnifical, more sweet than may in bloom, More white than lilies, filled the darkened room, And, through our tears, beamed glorious on our sight.
"My liegeman, Death, I sent to take him home, For Death is kind, and life laborious, The way is difficult, the travail sore.
"Now Death and he are gone, but I am come," (Love spake, benign, compassionating us,) "And, lo, with you am I forevermore."
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 169/Issue 2185/"Blossoms Meet to Mourn the Dead"

Originally published in St. James's Gazette.
Blossoms meet to mourn the dead On each season's grave are spread. Lilies white and roses red O'er dead Spring are canopied; Roses in their latest bloom Blazon golden Summer's tomb; Stealthy showers of petals fall At still Autumn's funeral But the darlings of the year Strew rude Winter's sepulchre.
Scarce a flower does Winter own. Of four seasons he alone Scarce a bud does to him take. Barren for the future's sake, Well content to none possess. And sweet violets — faithfulness — And white snowdrops — innocence — Are in death his recompense. And these darlings of the year Strew rude Winter's sepulchre.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 169/Issue 2185/The Return

Originally published in Chambers' Journal.
All day the land in golden sunlight lay,  All day a happy people to and fro Moved through the quiet summer ways; all day  I wandered with bowed head and footstep slow, A stranger in the well-remembered place, Where Time has left not one familiar face  I knew long years ago.
By marsh-lands golden with bog asphodel,  I saw the fitful plover wheel and scream; The soft winds swayed the foxglove's purple bell;  The iris trembled by the whispering stream; Gazing on these blue hills which knew not change, All the dead years seemed fallen dim and strange,  Unreal as a dream.
Unchanged as in my dreams lay the fair land,  The laughter-loving lips, the eager feet, The hands that struck warm welcome to my hand,  The hearts that at my coming higher beat, Have long been cold in death; no glad surprise Wakens for me in any living eyes,  That once made life so sweet.
Slowly the day drew down the golden west;  The purple shadows lengthened on the plain, Yet I unresting through a world at rest,  Went silent with my memory and my pain; Then, for a little space, across the years To me, bowed down with time and worn with tears,  My friends came back again.
By many a spot where summer could not last,  In other days, for all our joy too long, They came about me from the shadowy past,  As last I saw them, young and gay and strong; And she, my heart, came fair as in the days When at her coming all the radiant ways  Thrilled into happy song.
Ah me! once here, on such a summer night,  In silent bliss together, she and I Stood watching the pale lingering fringe of light  Go slowly creeping round the northern sky. Ah, love, if all the weary years could give But one sweet hour of that sweet night to live  With thee — and then to die!
The old sweet fragrance fills the summer air,  The same light lingers on the northern sea, Still, as of old, the silent land lies fair  Beneath the silent stars, the melody Of moving waters still is on the shore, And I am here again — but nevermore  Will she come back to me.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 169/Issue 2186/"Return unto thy Rest"

Originally published in Sunday Magazine.
Return! return! the Shepherd's voice is calling  From breezy heights and pastures fresh and sweet; O'er the fair landscape are the shadows falling,  And earth and sky in dim embraces meet.
Like fleecy clouds, in soft and woolly tumult,  The cherished flocks, with bleatings oft, ascend, And on the quiet air the tinkling sheep-bells  With evening lullabies their music blend.
And thus they rest, in green and pleasant pastures,  And thus at eve for quiet folds they yearn. O soul of man, so weary of thy wandering,  Unto thy resting-place return, return!
Unto the ark the dove returned at evening,  Weary and baffled, by the flood distrest; He who was rest, the wanderer receiving,  Folded her pinions on his tender breast.
Weary thy pinions, baffled, restless spirit,  Made for the Infinite, for him we yearn; O'er land and sea his voice is ever calling —  "Unto thy rest, O wanderer, return!"
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 169/Issue 2185/Respice Finem!

Originally published in Spectator.
I. Thou liest, Hope," 'tis said, when unfulfilled  Thy promises on life's worn footpaths rest; When roofless stands the temple thou didst build;  But what say they who know and love thee best? — "Though the rich light which filled the morning skies  Increase and fade into the depths of night, We sin if we believe the radiance dies,  When, with slow steps, it leaves our common sight: Once to have seen is surely still to see!  So when we speak of early Hope as dead, We take our hold of words but carelessly,  Forgetful that on hope the spirit fed, And gained — in losing even the truth to be — The present truth of self-maturity!"
 II. Ah ! still the heart sighs on — Then seek again  Some larger light 'mid drifting clouds of gloom; For surely something, say you, must remain  After Hope's death, — some flowers grace her tomb! Nay, tenderly, for she may not be dead,  But sleeping, charmed, until your life kiss hers Into the living Beauty which you fled  To place your love beside. She ministers Not as we do even to our dearest guest;  For banquet as we may, hunger is still A few hours distant only, — but her best  Comes last, and ends all hunger! Wherefore fill Thy heart with sorrow? Somewhere, it must be Thy pure, high hopes touch God's desires for thee!
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 169/Issue 2187/An Unpublished Correspondence

Originally published in Saturday Review.
My dear Mr. Gl-dst-ne,  In willing response  To your letter my views on your project inviting, I take up my pen to address you at once,  And reduce, as you wish, my objections to writing.
They mainly repose, you will see, on the fact  That the scheme of Home Rule your proposals prefigure Appears to be that which I've always attacked  With whate'er I possess of rhetorical vigor.
I have banned and denounced it, as every one know,  I have called it "betrayal" of England, if granted; I have talked with dismay of "a nation of foes  Within some thirty miles of our shores" being planted.
And with such declarations as these in my rear,  With such flouts of Parnell and his "cynical offer," To concur in your plan would expose me, I fear,  To the gibes of the Whig or Conservative scoffer.
My dear Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n,  Much as I feel  That your scruples become you, forgive the suggestion That some -acquaintance they seem to reveal  With what I've been saying myself on the question.
For I think you will find, on examining well  My political speeches before I decided To go for the programme of Mr- Parnell,  That no one denounced it more fiercely than I did
I was wont against "rapine," you know, to exclaim;  I inveighed against tactics of sheer spoliation Pursued to achieve a political aim,  Which I said was directed to "disintegration."
And thus your punctilios appear to my mind  Just the least in the world - you'll excuse - fantastic; I expect, if I swallow my pledges, to find  My lieutenant's œsophagus no less elastic.
And, in short, I'm compelled to withhold my belief  From the reasons alleged your defection to cover So must beg you more frankly to deal with your chief,  And explain your true motive for throwing me over.
My dear Mr. Gl-dst-ne,  I cheerfully loose  At so blunt a request all restraints on my candor; My doubt, then, is this, whether sauce for the goose  Musts be always and everywhere sauce for the gander.
For though into training you possibly may  Your young party, a thus far undisciplined cub, lick, Still, granting they dance to your piping, I say,  I don't feel so sure you'll bamboozle the public.
You'll risk it? Your years such a hazard befits,  But you seem to forget of my birth what the date is, And I don't see why I should play double or quits  At the wish of a man who is nearing the eighties.
My dear Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n,  Caution, no doubt,  Stands for wisdom in some people's sole definition; Your shrewd calculations perhaps might work out,  Were it not for one force you neglect - competition.
You forget that you risk being passed in the race  Nor would aught, I imagine, disgust you so sorely, As finding the fence that you dared not to face  Had been cleared, and in triumph, by one Mr. M-rl-y.
My dear Mr. Gl-dst-ne,  I don't think I need,  On a point I've so fully considered, address you.
My dear Mr. Ch-mb-rl-n,  Don't you, indeed?  Then I've only to bid you good-bye, and God bless you!
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 169/Issue 2188/The Last Year

Originally published in Chambers' Journal.
Tender lights on sky and sea; Milkwhite blossoms on the tree; Lull of storms and tempest bleak; Faint bloom on a wan young cheek.  "Spring, the blessèd Spring, is nigh!"  Said my darling hopefully.
Violets' breath and primrose rays; Sunshine threading leafy ways; Gentle steps, that, weak and slow, Through the woodland pathways go.  "It were sad in Spring to die,"  Said my darling wistfully.
Glorious Summer, crowned with flowers; Dreamy days of golden hours; Sunset-crimsoned hills afar; Dewy eve, and silver star.  "Strength may come with by-and-by,"  Said my darling patiently.
Glowing fruits and ripening grain; Languid days and nights of pain; Fields so golden, earth so glad, And a young life doomed! "'Tis sad  Through the bright days here to lie,"  Said my darling wearily.
Sighing winds and falling leaves; Yearning love, that vainly grieves; Patient eyes, with farewell gaze, Greeting the wan autumn days.  "Happy world, fair world, good-bye,"  Said my darling tenderly.
Wailing storms and weeping skies; Soft wings spread for Paradise; Solemn whispering accents thrilled With the awe of hope fulfilled.  "Life! O blissful life on high!"  Breathed my darling rapturously.
Wreathing snowdrifts, far and wide, Mantling o'er the lone hillside. Purer than that stainless veil — Like a folded lily pale,  While the moaning blast goes by,  Sleeps my darling peacefully.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 169/Issue 2186/At Brooks's

Originally published in St. James's Gazette.
(After Mr. Gladstone's Speech.)
"A lunatic's notion I call it," said Goschen.
"Costing many a million," Said G. O. Trevelyan.
"A gambler's last gamble," Said Stratheden-and-Campbell.
"No cards left to play," Said brisk Albert Grey.
"He played an old hand," Chuckled out Henry Brand;
"And scored not one trick," Said Sir John Lubbock quick.
"He plays much too fast," Muttered Harcourt the Vast.
"I know it bewilders His partners," said Childers.
"He strikes with such heat," Said Heneage, "I'm beat."
"And I'm tied to his anvil," Sighed softly Lord Granville.
"And I'm of like kidney," Responded Lord Sydney.
"You couldn't his wrath brook," Said slyly Lord Northbrook.
"I was told to sit tight," Said Lord Cork; "am I right?"
"'Tis more than I dare," Said the Earl of Kenmare.
"We've dared all that man durst With conscience," said Sandhurst.
"I feel it most sorely; We're doomed," said Lord Morley.
Shouted Wolverton, "Well, We'll go with him to h—l."
Said Rosebery "Stay, Only part of the way."
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 169/Issue 2186/To My Friend in the Country

Originally published in St. James's Gazette.
Now truly we In London town have got ahead of thee.  Thou mayst outrun Us all too soon, but meanwhile we have won  A glorious victory  Over rusticity;  And budding trees  Thy servant sees Whilst thine still sleep in all their sylvan pride.  Prithee, are yet thine almonds out?  Speak truly, and small doubt But that the answer will with laurels crown my side.
 Green now our grass As that o'er which thy rustic footsteps pass.  Our dusky squares Sport many a branch that Spring's embroidery wears.  Such foliage now endows  Hyde Park's horse-chestnut boughs  As well I know  Thine cannot show; And ah, to think the Flower Walk should unfold  Sights that, in certain borders trim,  The watchful eyes of him To whom these lines I write do not, as yet behold!
 And grudge us not Favors that sweeten for awhile our lot;  But grant to us What Dives well can spare to Lazarus.  Think of thy days to come,  Thy overwhelming sum  Of summer flowers,  Thy fragrant showers Of rosy petals scenting night and day,  Of all thy lilies blowing where  Sweet sober lavender Borders with dainty spikes thy pleasant garden way.
# Look

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Look."
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, 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.
* A Look, a poem by John Cowper Powys
* The Look, a poem by Sara Teasdale
* The Look, a poem by Anna Shipton
* The Look, a poem by Elizabeth Barrett Barrett
# Look for the Silver Lining

[Verse]
    (Blair) Please don't be offended if I preach to you a while,
    Tears are out of place in eyes that were meant to smile.
    There's a way to make you very biggest troubles small,
    Here's the happy secret of it all.
[Chorus]
    Look for the silver lining
    Whene'er a cloud appears in the blue.
    Remember somewhere the sun is shining
    And so the right thing to do is make it shine for you.
    A heart full of joy and gladness
    Will always banish sadness and strife.
    So always look for the silver lining
    And try to find the sunny side of life.
[Verse]
    (Sally) As I wash my dishes, I'll be following your plan,
    Till I see the brightness in ev'ry pot and pan.
    I am sure your point of view will ease the daily grind,
    So I'll keep repeating in my mind.
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 1950, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 73 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
# Longyear v. Toolan

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
209 U.S. 414
Longyear v. Toolan
Argued: March 13, 1908. --- Decided: April 6, 1908
Mr. Edward Cahill for plaintiff in error.
Messrs. Harris E. Thomas and Charles W. Nichols for defendants in error.
Mr. Justice Moody 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
# Look back on Time, with kindly eyes—

* "Look back on time with kindly eyes" in Poems (1890)
* "Look back on time with kindly eyes" in The Complete Poems of Emily Dickinson (1924)
# Look on me with thy cloudless eyes

* Song. Look on me with thy cloudless eyes, from The Athenæum, 1833.
* Look on me with thy cloudless eyes, in National Lyrics, and Songs for Music, 1834.
# Lorna Doone/Volume 1

LORNA DOONE:
A Romance of Exmoor.
By R. D. BLACKMORE,
AUTHOR OF 'CRADOCK NOWELL,' ETC.
IN THREE VOLUMES.
Vol. I.
LONDON: SAMPSON LOW, SON, & MARSTON, CROWN BUILDINGS, 188, FLEET STREET. 1869.
[All Rights are reserved.]
LONDON: PRINTED BY W. CLOWES & SONS, STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
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
# Lives of Fair and Gallant Ladies

* related portals: Erotica.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
Published by The Alexandrian Society, Inc., London and New York, 1922.
* VOLUME I
* VOLUME II
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 1929, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 94 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
# Liverpool and Great Western Steam Company v. Phenix Insurance Company

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
129 U.S. 397
Liverpool Steam Company v. Phenix Insurance Company
F. A. Wilcox and S. P. Nash, for appellant.
[Syllabus, Statement of case, and Arguments of Counsel from Pages 398-434 intentionally omitted]
Wm. Allen Butler, for appellee.
GRAY, J.

## 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
# Lyrics of Lowly Life/An Ante-Bellum Sermon

Layout 2
AN ANTE-BELLUM SERMON.
WE is gathahed hyeah, my brothahs, In dis howlin' wildaness, Fu' to speak some words of comfo't To each othah in distress. An' we chooses fu' ouah subjic' Dis—we 'll 'splain it by an' by; "An' de Lawd said, 'Moses, Moses,' An' de man said, 'Hyeah am I.'"
Now ole Pher'oh, down in Egypt, Was de wuss man evah bo'n, An' he had de Hebrew chillun Down dah wukin' in his co'n; 'T well de Lawd got tiahed o' his fooling An' sez he: "I 'll let him know— Look hyeah, Moses, go tell Pher'oh Fu' to let dem chillun go."
"An' ef he refuse to do it, I will make him rue de houah, ​Fu' I 'll empty down on Egypt All de vials of my powah." Yes, he did—an' Pher'oh's ahmy Was n't wuth a ha'f a dime; Fu' de Lawd will he'p his chillun, You kin trust him evah time.
An' yo' enemies may 'sail you In de back an' in de front; But de Lawd is all aroun' you, Fu' to ba' de battle's brunt. Dey kin fo'ge yo' chains an' shackles F'om de mountains to de sea; But de Lawd will sen' some Moses Fu' to set his chillun free.
An' de lan' shall hyeah his thundah, Lak a bias' f'om Gab'el's ho'n, Fu' de Lawd of hosts is mighty When he girds his ahmor on. But fu' feah some one mistakes me, I will pause right hyeah to say, Dat I 'm still a-preachin' ancient, I ain't talkin' 'bout to-day. ​But I tell you, fellah christuns, Things 'll happen mighty strange; Now, de Lawd done dis fu' Isrul, An' his ways don't nevah change, An' de love he showed to Isrul Was n't all on Isrul spent; Now don't run an' tell yo' mastahs Dat I 's preachin' discontent.
'Cause I is n't; I 'se a-judgin' Bible people by deir ac's; I 'se a-givin' you de Scriptuah, I 'se a-handin' you de fac's. Cose ole Pher'oh b'lieved in slav'ry, But de Lawd he let him see, Dat de people he put bref in,— Evah mothah's son was free.
An' dahs othahs thinks lak Pher'oh, But dey calls de Scriptuah liar, Fu' de Bible says "a servant Is a-worthy of his hire." An' you cain't git roun' nor thoo dat, An' you cain't git ovah it, ​Fu' whatevah place you git in, Dis hyeah Bible too 'll fit.
So you see de Lawd's intention, Evah sence de worl' began, Was dat His almighty freedom Should belong to evah man, But I think it would be bettah, Ef I 'd pause agin to say, Dat I 'm talkin' 'bout ouah freedom In a Bibleistic way.
But de Moses is a-comin', An' he 's comin', suah and fas' We kin hyeah his feet a-trompin', We kin hyeah his trumpit blas'. But I want to wa'n you people, Don't you git too brigity; An' don't you git to braggin' 'Bout dese things, you wait an' see.
But when Moses wif his powah Comes an' sets us chillun free, ​We will praise de gracious Mastah Dat has gin us liberty; An' we 'll shout ouah halleluyahs, On dat mighty reck'nin' day, When we 'se reco'nised ez citiz'— Huh uh! Chillun, let us pray!
# Lyrics of Lowly Life/Life

Layout 2
LIFE.
A crust of bread and a corner to sleep in, A minute to smile and an hour to weep in, A pint of joy to a peck of trouble, And never a laugh but the moans come double; And that is life! ​A crust and a corner that love makes precious, With the smile to warm and the tears to refresh us; And joy seems sweeter when cares come after, And a moan is the finest of foils for laughter; And that is life!