OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/Beneath a Placid Brow

Beneath a Placid Brow.
Beneath a placid brow, And tear-unstained cheek, To bear as I do now A heart that well could break; To simulate a smile Amid the wrecks of grief,— To herd among the vile, And therein seek relief,— For the bitterness of thought. Were joyance dearly bought.
When will man learn to bear His heart nailed on his breast, With all its lines of care In nakedness confessed?— Why, in this solemn mask Of passion-wasted life, Will no one dare the task, To speak his sorrows rife?— Will no one bravely tell, His bosom is a hell?
I scorn this hated scene Of masking and disguise, Where men on men still gleam, With falseness in their eyes; Where all is counterfeit, And truth hath never say; Where hearts themselves do cheat, Concealing hope's decay. And writhing at the stake, Themselves do liars make.
Go, search thy heart, poor fool! And mark its passions well; 'Twere time to go to school,— 'Twere time the truth to tell,— 'Twere time this world should cast Its infant slough away, And hearts burst forth at last Into the light of day;— 'Twere time all learned to be Fit for Eternity!
# The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/Certain Pleasant Verses to the Lady of My Heart

Certain Pleasant Verses to The Lady of My Heart.
The murmur of the merry brook, As gushingly and free It wimples with its sun-bright look, Far down yon sheltered lea, Humming to every drowsy flower A low, quaint lullaby, Speaks to my spirit, at this hour, Of Love and thee.
The music of the gay green wood, When every leaf and tree Is coaxed by winds of gentlest mood, To utter harmony; And the smaH birds that answer make To the wind's fitful glee, In me most blissful visions wake. Of Love and thee.
The rose perks up its blushing cheek, So soon as it can see
Along the eastern hills, one streak Of the Sun's majesty: Laden with dewy gems, it gleams A precious freight to me, For each pure drop thereon me seems A type of thee.
And when abroad in summer morn, I hear the blythe bold bee Winding aloft his tiny horn, (An errant knight perdy,) That winged hunter of rare sweets O'er many a far country, To me a lay of love repeats, Its subject—thee.
And when, in midnight hour, I note The stars so pensively, In their mild beauty, onward float Through heaven's own silent sea: My heart is in their voyaging To realms where spirits be, But its mate, in such wandering, Is ever thee!
But O, the murmur of the brook, The music of the tree; The rose with its sweet shamefast look, The booming of the bee; The course of each bright voyager In heaven's unmeasured sea, Would not one heart-pulse of me stir, Loved I not thee!
# The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/And Hae Ye Seen My Ain True Luve?

And Hae Ye Seen My Ain True Luve?
'And hae ye seen my ain true luve As ye cam thro' the fair? Ae blink o' her 's worth a' the goud And gear that glistens there!'— 'And how suld I ken your true luve Frae ither lasses braw That trysted there, busked out like queens, Wi' pearlins knots and a'?'
'Ye may ken her by her snaw-white skin, And by her waist sae sma; Ye may ken her by her searchin' ee, And hair like glossy craw; Ye may ken her by the hinnie mou, And by the rose-dyed cheek, But best o' a' by smiles o' licht That luve's ain language speak!
'Ye may ken her by her fairy step— As she trips up the street,
The very pavement seems to shine Aneath her genty feet! Ye may ken her by the jewell'd rings Upon her fingers sma', Yet better by the dignity That she glides through them a'.
'And ye may ken her by the voice— The music o' her tongue— Wha heard her speak incontinent Wad think an angel sung! And such seems she to me, and mair, That wale o' woman's charms— It 's bliss to press her dear wee mou And daut her in my arms!'
# The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/Away! Away! O, Do Not Say!

Away! Away! O, Do Not Say.
Away! away! O, do not say He can prove false to me: Let me believe but this brief day In his fidelity; Tell me, that rivers backward flow, That unsunned snows like fire-brands glow, I may believe that lay, But never can believe that he Is false and fled away.
Ill acted part! ill acted part! I knew his noble mind, He could not break a trusting heart, Nor leave his love behind; Tell me yon sun will cease to rise, Or stars at night to gem the skies, I may believe such lay; But never can believe that he Is false and fled away.
Can it be so? O, surely no! Must I perforce believe That he I loved and trusted so, Vowed only to deceive? Heap coals of fire on this lone head, Or in pure pity strike me dead,— 'Twere kindness, on the day That tells me one I loved so well, Is false,—is fled away!
# The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/Begone, Begone, Thou Truant Tear

Begone, Begone Thou Truant Tear.
Begone, begone thou truant tear That trembles on my cheek, And far away be born the sigh That more than words can speak.
And cease, my merry harp, to wake The song of former days, And perish all the minstrel lyre That framed these happy lays.
She loves me not who woke these strains, Then, wherefore should they be? True, she doth smile as she was wont, But doth she smile on me?
Her neck with kindly arch ne'er bends When listing to my song, Nor does her passion-moving lips The trembling notes prolong.
Time was, indeed, when she would hang Enamoured on my theme; But ah, that happy time hath fled, And vanished like a dream.
Peace, thou proud heart, and prate no more, Thy sun of joy hath set, And dark and starless is the sky The troubadour has met.
# The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/Come, Thou Bright Spirit

Come, Thou Bright Spirit!
Come, thou bright spirit of the skies, With witching harp or potent lyre, And bid those magic notes arise That kindle souls, and tip with fire The prophet's lips. Begin the strain, That like the trumpet's stirring sound Makes the lone heart to bound From death-like lethargy to life again, Bracing the slackened nerve and limb, And calling from the eye, all sunk and dim, Unwonted fire and noble daring; Or wake that soothing melody That stills the tumults of the heart despairing, With all its many murmurings small, Of soft and liquid sounds that be Like to the music of a water-fall, Heard from the farthest depths of some green wood, In quiet moon-lit night, that stills the mood Of painful thought, and fills the soul
With pleasant musings, such as childhood knows When basking on some greenwood shady knoll, And weaving garlands with the drooping boughs. Or dost thou sing of woman—of the eye That pierces through the heart, and wrays Its own fond secrets by a sympathy That scorns slow words and idle phrase? Or of the lips that utter wondrous love, And yet do scarcely move Their ruby portals to emit a sound, Or syllable a name, but round and round Irradiate themselves with pensive smiles? Or of the bosom, stranger to the wiles And thoughts of worthless worldlings, which doth swell With soft emotion underneath its cover, And speaks unto the keen-eyed conscious lover Thoughts, feelings, sympathies, tongue ne'er could teft? Sing'st thou of arms—of glory in the field— Where patriots meet in death's embrace, To reap high honours where the clanging shield And gleaming spear—the swayful ponderous mace, And the shrill trumpet rings aloud its peal Of martial music furious and strong; Where ardent souls together throng
And struggle in the press of griding steel, And fearful shout and battle cry, Herald the quivering spirit's sigh, That leaves the strife in agony, And as it fleets away, still throws Its stern defiance on its conquering foes, Shrieking in wrath, not fear?
# The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/And Have I Gazed?

And Have I Gazed?
And have I gazed on this bright form While it was fast decaying? And have I looked on these pale lips While ghastly death and woman's love Thereon with smiles were playing? And do I see that lustrous eye Now quenched in hopeless night? And was that feebly-murmured sigh Thy spirit's heavenward flight?
A moment since that eye was bright, A moment since it beamed on me, And now that lovely orb of light Is fixed on dull vacuity; That bosom throbb'd, that cheek was warm, And in that round and polish'd arm The thin blue veins were filled with life; Now motionless and pale they lie; Sad beauteous wrecks of that stern strife In which a soul escaped on high!
Can I forget thy sad sweet smile, Thy last, thy long impassioned look? Can I forget the last farewell It then so fondly took? Oh no—methinks thy lips still seem That smile of deepest love to beam, And these eyes that now calmly sleep Beneath their half-closed thin transparent covers, Have all the lustre in their slumber deep They had in life, and proud dominion keep With light and sunshine over hearts and lovers. Vain thought! Imagination's hollow trick To wean the heart from brooding o'er its sorrow, Away! Death's blighting dews have fallen thick On that dear maiden's pale and bloodless cheek. She smiled to-day; some gentle words did speak, But nor one smile nor syllable will break The silence of to-morrow!
Feast, feast mine eyes on happiness forelore, Banquet on loveliness that hath not died, A beauty slumbers there as heretofore, A soul made to be deified. What though the rose, like coward base, hath fled
From this cold cheek; the lily still is there; And mark how its pure white is softly spread, Where not one vagrant rose shall dare Again to blossom on this maiden's cheek, Or its bright innocence with shame to streak.
# The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/Change Sweepeth Over All

Change Sweepeth Over All.
Change sweepeth over all! In showers leaves fall From the tall forest tree; On to the sea Majestic rivers roll, It is their goal. Each speeds to perish in man's simple seeming,— Each disappears; One common end o'ertakes life's idle dreaming Dust, darkness, tears!
Day hurries to its close: The sun that rose A miracle of light, Yieldeth to night; The skirt of one vast pall O'ershadows all, Yon firmamental cresset lights forth shining, Heaven's highest born!
Droop on their thrones, and, like pale spirits pining, Vanish with morn.
O'er cities of old days, Dumb creatures graze; Palace and pyramid In dust are hid; Yea, the sky-searching tower Stands but its hour. Oceans their wide-stretched beds are ever shifting, Sea turns to shore, And stars and systems through dread space are drifting, To shine no more.
Names perish that erst smote Nations remote, With panic, fear, or wrong; Heroic song Grapples with time in vain; On to the main Of dim forgetfulness for ever rolling, Earth's bubbles burst; Time o'er the wreck of ages sternly tolling The last accurst.
The world is waxing old, Heaven dull and cold; Nought lacketh here a close Save human woes. Yet they too have an end,— Death is man's friend: Doomed for a while, his heart must go on breaking Day after day, But light, love, life,—all,—all at last forsaking, Clay claspeth clay!
# The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/Choice of Death

Choice of Death.
Might I, without offending, choose The death that I would die, I'd fall, as erst the Templar fell, Aneath a Syrian sky.
Upon a glorious plain of war, The banners floating fair, My lance and fluttering pennoncel Should marshal heroes there!
Upon the solemn battle-eve, With prayer to be forgiven, I'd arm me for a righteous fight, Imploring peace of Heaven!
High o'er the thunders of the charge Should wave my sable plume, And where the day was lost or won, There should they place my tomb!
# The Poetical Works of William Motherwell/Clerke Richard and Maid Margaret

Clerke Richard and Maid Margaret.
A man must nedes love maugre his hed, He may not fleen it though he should be ded.
—Chaucer.
There were two lovers who loved each other For many years, till hate did start, And yet they never quite could smother The former love that warmed their heart ; And both did love, and both did hate, Till both fulfilled the will of fate.
Years after, and the maid did marry One that her heart had ne’er approved, Nor longer could Clerke Richard tarry Where he had lost all that he loved. To foreign lands he reckless went To nourish love—hate—discontent.
A word—-an idle word of folly, Had spilled their love when it was young,
And hatred, grief, and melancholy, In either heart as idly sprung; And yet they loved—and hate did wane, And much they wished to meet again.
Of Richard still is Margaret dreaming; His image lingered in her breast; And oft at midnight, to her seeming, Her former lover stood confest; And shedding on her bosom tears, The bitter wrecks of happier years.
Where'er he went, by land or ocean, Still Richard sees dame Margaret there; And every throb and kind emotion His bosom knew were felt for her. And never new love hath he cherished; The power to love with first love perished.
Homeward is Clerke Richard sailing, An altered man from him of old, His hate had changed to bitter wailing, And love resumed its wonted hold
Upon his heart, which yearned to see The haunts and loves of infancy.
He knew her faithless, nathless, ever; He loved her, though no more his own; Nor could he proudly now dissever The chain that round his heart was thrown. He loved her without hope, yet true, And sought her but to say adieu.
For even in parting there is pleasure, A bitter joy that wrings the soul; And there is grief surpassing measure That will not bide nor brook control; And yet a formal fond-leave taking Is wished for by a heart nigh breaking.
Oh, there is something in the feeling, And trembling falter of the hand, And something in the tear down stealing, And voice so broken and so bland, And something in the word farewell That worketh like a powerful spell!
These lovers met, and never parted; They met as lovers wont to do Who meet when both are broken-hearted, To breathe a last and long adieu. Pale Margaret wept. Clerke Richard sighed; And, folded in each other's arms, they died.
Yes, they did die ere word was spoken; Surprise, grief-love had chained their tongue; And now that hatred was ywroken, A wondrous joy in them had sprung. And then despair froze either heart, Which lived to meet—but died to part.
Clerke Richard, he was buried low In fair Linlithgow; and his love Was laid beside him there; and lo, A bonnie tree did grow above Their double grave, and it doth flourish Green o'er the spot where love did perish.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Physiology (of plants)

See also Plant physiology on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
​Physiology (of plants), that branch of science which treats of the activities of living beings. These essentially are the same in plants as in animals, but often are simpler. Plant physiology is concerned with the action of the plant body as a whole, the part which each of its organs takes and the ways in which they are adjusted to one another and the external world. (See Ecology.) The work of a particular part or organ is called its function. The important general functions of plants are absorbtion; water transfer; transpiration; nutrition (in the narrower sense) including digestion, photosynthesis and assimilation; secretion; respiration; growth; and movement. (See these topics and Irritability.) In the higher plants the root is an absorbing organ for water, mineral salts and such organic matter as is soluble in water; the root, stem and leaves are furnished with strands of tissues along which water and foods can travel readily; the leaves and the surface of the stem, at least when young, are organs of absorption and evolution of the gases carbon dioxide and oxygen; they also lose water by evaporation; and they are most important as organs for making carbohydrate foods. All these functions, however, may go on in a single cell of one of the simplest plants.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Phonometer

See also Phonometer on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
​ Phonom′eter is an instrument of Edison's invention for testing the force of the human voice in speaking. It consists chiefly of a mouthpiece and diaphragm, behind the latter of which is placed a delicate mechanism which operates a 15-inch fly-wheel by means of which a hole can be bored in an ordinary pine board.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Phonography

See also the disclaimer.
​ Phonog′raphy. See Shorthand.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Phrenology

See also Phrenology on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
​Phrenol′ogy In popular language phrenology may be defined as the theory of mental philosophy based on the size or the relative size of the different parts of the brain. It claims that we can localize the different parts of the brain which gives rise to different mental functions. Phrenologists make a map of the cranium, on one division writing self-esteem; on another, wit; and so on. Examining your head, the phrenologist will put his finger on one point and say: “This man has a large development of self-esteem.” Moving his hand to another bump: “This man is lacking in veneration;” or “He has a great power of language;” or “He has to try hard to give exact statements;” and so on. The cultivated phrenologist thus goes through all the divisions of mental and moral qualities, finding a local boundary in the brain for each. In Britain, Gall, Spurzheim and George and Andrew Combe may be mentioned as representative phrenologists. In America the more noted ones are Dr. Charles Caldwell, the Fowler brothers and Wells.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Phrygia

See also Phrygia on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
​Phryg′ia, an ancient country of Asia Minor, whose boundaries varied at different periods. It is supposed that at one time Phrygia included most of the peninsula. In general it is a high plateau which afforded pasturage for flocks. Gold was found in the mountains and streams. Vines were cultivated in some districts, and Phrygian marble was greatly prized. Phrygia was conquered by Crœsus in the 6th century and by the Persians in 549. The influence of the Phrygian religion is traced in Greek mythology.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Phœbe

See also Phoebe (bird) on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
​ Phœ′be, a small fly-catcher nesting about houses and other structures. Its nest of moss and mud may be placed under bridges, in barns, sheds, the shelter of piazzas and other similar situations. It is about seven inches long, dark above and white below, tinged with yellow. Its bill is black. It is sometimes called pewee, but that name is better reserved for the wood-pewee. It winters north of the frost-line. It owes its name to its song of pewit-phœbe. See Pewee.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Phototaxis

See also Phototaxis on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
​Phototaxis (fō-tō-tăks′ĭs) (in plants), the sensitiveness of an organism, free to move about, to unequal illumination (see Irritability), to which it responds by taking up a definite attitude with respect to the direction from which the brighter light acts. Only water-plants are free to respond. Diatoms, desmids, some filamentous algæ and zoöspores of algas and fungi show these reactions. Algal zoöspores swim toward light, and fungous zoöspores swim away from it.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Photosynthesis

See also Photosynthesis on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
​Photosynthesis (fō′tō̇-sĭn′thē̇-sĭs), the process by which green plants make sugar, starch and similar food. The materials for this are carbon dioxide and water. The former is obtained chiefly (if not exclusively) by the leaves and twigs from the air, where it constitutes three parts in 10,000. It passes through the stomata by diffusion, dissolves in the water, saturating the cell-walls, and so enters the cells. The organs by which the food is made are the minute, green bodies called chloroplasts or chlorophyll bodies, which give the plant its color. They are composed of protoplasm, which holds a green dye, chlorophyll, and are imbedded in the colorless protoplasm of those cells which lie near the surface of a plant. The chlorophyll absorbs some of the light, especially the red and yellow parts, and this energy is used (how is unknown) in the process of food-making. Even twilight (not moonlight) suffices for some photosynthesis; the amount of food made is proportional, other things being equal, to the brightness of the light. The details of the process are not known. Usually a sugar appears as the end product; this increases to a certain amount in the water of the cell; some of it is turned into starch, minute granules being formed in the chloroplasts. The food is constantly being carried away to places of use or storage. In daylight food is usually produced more rapidly than it can be disposed of; but, as photosynthesis ceases at night, the surplus is then removed. See Aëration, Chlorophyll and Stomata.
# The New Student's Reference Work/Phonograph

See also Phonograph on Wikipedia, and the disclaimer.
​ Pho′nograph, an instrument invented by Edison in 1877 for recording and reproducing words spoken by the human voice. Leon Scott had already shown that, by speaking in front of a diaphragm, on the rear side of which was fixed a stylus, he could obtain a graphical record of the human voice on a cylinder rotating behind the diaphragm. The step which Edison made was to introduce a wax cylinder and a needlepoint attached to the diaphragm. On rotating the wax cylinder, the needle-point cuts a groove. If, while this groove is being cut, one “talks to the diaphragm” the indentations of the needle-point in the wax will vary with each pulsation of the voice. The axis of the cylinder is so provided with a screw that the groove takes the form of a spiral as the cylinder is rotated and translated while the stylus is fixed in one position. A record having been impressed upon the wax, it is only necessary to allow the stylus again to trace the groove in order to impress upon the diaphragm exactly — or nearly exactly — the same vibrations which originally produced the groove. In this way the phonograph is made to repeat whatever is said to it. A new phonographic principle was in 1900 invented by Poulsen, a Danish engineer. Poulsen uses the current in a telephone circuit to magnetize a strip of steel tape which is drawn continuously between the poles of an electromagnet, the electromagnet being energized by the telephone current. The record of anything spoken into the telephone is stored in the magnetization of the steel tape. Accordingly when the steel tape is again drawn between the poles of the electromagnet, the telephone in the circuit will, owing to currents induced by the steel tape, repeat whatever was originally spoken to it. Still a third phonographic principle was in 1901 devised by Nernst; but has not been perfected. It is based upon the electrolysis produced by an electric current.