OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Rose of Battle

The Rose of Battle at kalliope.org
Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! The tall thought-woven sails, that flap unfurled Above the tide of hours, trouble the air, And God's bell buoyed to be the water's care;
While hushed from fear, or loud with hope, a band
With blown, spray-dabbled hair gather at hand. Turn if you may from battles never done, I call, as they go by me one by one, Danger no refuge holds, and war no peace,
For him who hears love sing and never cease,
Beside her clean-swept hearth, her quiet shade:
But gather all for whom no love hath made A woven silence, or but came to cast A song into the air, and singing passed
To smile on the pale dawn; and gather you Who have sought more than is in rain or dew,
Or in the sun and moon, or on the earth, Or sighs amid the wandering, starry mirth, Or comes in laughter from the sea's sad lips,
And wage God's battles in the long grey ships. The sad, the lonely, the insatiable, To these Old Night shall all her mystery tell;
God's bell has claimed them by the little cry Of their sad hearts, that may not live nor die.
Rose of all Roses, Rose of all the World! You, too, have come where the dim tides are hurled
Upon the wharves of sorrow, and heard ring The bell that calls us on; the sweet far thing.
Beauty grown sad with its eternity Made you of us, and of the dim grey sea.
Our long ships loose thought-woven sails and wait,
For God has bid them share an equal fate; And when at last, defeated in His wars, They have gone down under the same white stars,
We shall no longer hear the little cry
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 1939, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 84 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
# The Thing Happens: A.D. 2170

Back to Methuselah
Preface—In the Beginning—The Gospel of the Brothers Barnabas—The Thing Happens—Tragedy of an Elderly Gentleman—As Far as Thought Can Reach
* information about this edition.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
# The Tulip and Eglantine

* The Tulip and Eglantine, in Pocahontas and Other Poems, New York edition, 1836.
* The Tulip and Eglantine, in Voice of Flowers, 1846.
# The Tungus v. Skovgaard

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

## Concurring Opinion

    Frankfurter

## Dissenting Opinion

    Brennan
United States Supreme Court
358 U.S. 588
The Tungus v. Skovgaard
Argued: Oct. 23, 1958. --- Decided: Feb 24, 1959
[Syllabus from 597 intentionally omitted]
Mr. J. Ward O'Neill, New York City, for the petitioners.
Mr. Bernard Chazen, Hoboken, N.J., for the respondents.
Mr. Justice STEWART 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
# The Tulip

original title “La Tulipe”
I am the tulip, Holland's choicest flower.
 The thrifty Fleming — such my loveliness —
 Pays for my perfect bulb a price no less
Than diamond. Lordly lineage is my dower.
Like to a proud Yolande in her young hour
 Of pomp and kirtle bright, upon my dress
 Of dewy crimson crossed with silver fess,
I bear the painted blazon of my power.
The gardener divine with fingers deft
 Spun golden beams of iridescent noon,
 And liquid depths of purple fashioned up,
To make for me a robe of royal weft.
 Peerless I stand — yet grieve that Nature boon
 Poured never perfume in my shining cup!
# The Tuna Fish and the Dolphin

Perry index 113
* "A Thunny and a Dolphin", part of "Fable XC and XCI", translated by Roger L'Estrange, in Fables of Æsop and Other Eminent Mythologists (1692)
* "The Tunny-Fish and the Dolphin", translated by Vernon Stanley Jones, in Æsop's fables: A New Translation (1912)
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
# The Tungus v. Skovgaard/Concurrence Frankfurter

* Court Documents
* Case Syllabus
* Opinion of the Court
* Concurring Opinion Frankfurter
* Dissenting Opinion Brennan
United States Supreme Court
358 U.S. 588
The Tungus v. Skovgaard
Argued: Oct. 23, 1958. --- Decided: Feb 24, 1959
Mr. Justice FRANKFURTER, concurring in the opinion of the Court.*
Deeming the proper determination of the substantive issues of admiralty law of such controlling importance, I abstain from stating my strong conviction, heretofore expressed, that in situations like the present, the construction of state law should not, as a matter of the wise administration of law, be made independently by the lower federal courts, but its authoritative construction should be sought, under readily available state procedure, from the state court, while the case is held in the federal court. See my opinions in Sutton v. Leib, 342 U.S. 402, 412-414 (concurring opinion), and Propper v. Clark, 337 U.S. 472, 493-497 (dissenting opinion), in connection with Railroad Comm'n v. Pullman Co., 312 U.S. 496, 500; Thompson v. Magnolia Petroleum Co., 309 U.S. 478, 484.
Where an issue is solely concerned with diversity jurisdiction, as was the situation in Meredith v. Winter Haven, 320 U.S. 228, a different consideration may become relevant. "For purposes of diversity jurisdiction a federal court is, 'in effect, only another court of the State.'" Angel v. Bullington, 330 U.S. 183, 187.
Mr. Justice BRENNAN, with whom The Chief Justice, Mr. Justice BLACK, and Mr. Justice DOUGLAS join, concurring in part and dissenting in part.

## 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
# The Soul Of A Century/Dead youth

* related portals: Czech literature.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
DEAD YOUTH
On an aged instrument’s metallic strings I heard a rhythmic fall of a harp’s far distant din, As a tearful dew of feeble tones, this cadence clings To the faint vibrating wires strung within.
Like some heavy scent a thought within my soul awoke, And a song I used to hear in the days of my youthful tears Breathed into my cheeks, and grasping my hand and cloak It led me into the stilled garden of by-gone years.
Heavenly beauty shone with the constellations glistening storm, Upon the quiet waters of time, a starry myth delayed, Where in a casket of glass like a saint’s lifeless form In a shroud of faded Springs, my wasted youth was laid.
A blush of rosy dreams upon the cheeks had bloomed, Like a diadem the jewels of my tears shone through Upon the forehead I had embalmed and gently groomed With scented treasures of memories bom anew.
I saw the warmth of long dead charms/ that tempted once the eye Beneath the flimsy veil woven at life’s first dawn, The glow of lingering looks that buried within me lie And kisses without life/ whose flames are forever gone
The grapes embittered blood/ that was not my ambition’s sap, And the fervor of embrace that cooled with thought, The rain of drifted blooms, that fell into my lap And withered beneath my touch and turned to naught.
The light of risen mornings that did not paint my cheek The feeble flame of rainbows, that did not cool my way, The glare of bygone days, time turned to night so bleak That it changed the peace of night to a charmless, turpid day.
All this flared in my soul, and the wishes of the dead Re-echoed within my I, with a mortal sobbing sound. Over my lifeless youth, I bent my musing head As one bends over a lover, whom death had found.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Soul Of A Century/Echoes of yesterday

ECHOES OF YESTERDAY
Repeat that song . . . so close, so dear to me . . . As if my passions’ tempestuous oceans My love . . my wasted youth's emotions . . My poesy were mirrored in its plea . . . .
At length she rose: And in her sheer white gown, draped loosely about her arms She looked more like a specter leaving his dark, cold tent, Beneath the stone he raised, than a living thing of charm. Gracefully she sat upon the low piano chair Two hands, like butterflies, dancing about the keys, And with her song, my soul’s wings spread upon the breeze, I saw again my home . . I felt the woodland air. . And she played on . . of happiness . . and dreams . . and youth.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Soul Of A Century/Buttercups

* related portals: Czech literature.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
BUTTERCUPS
I dearly love those rich moist meadow plains Covered in Spring with gay buttercups of gold; I love the winding brook with its waters cold, And all that grows and breathes and blooms again.
I love the lapwings, as through the grass they breeze, And the butterflies beneath the sun's carress, The aged willow in its newly fashioned dress, The woodpecker, as it drills the tan-barked trees.
I love to see the boys at Easter time Distributing gay colored Easter eggs The maiden, who serenely and sublime Asks of the brook: “What is it my lover begs?” Whereupon she leaps and picks a bloom in haste, And wades to her skirts across the golden waste.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Soul Of A Century/Bibliography

BIBLIOGRAPHY
Nosek, Vladimir
The Spirit of Bohemia, New York. 1927.
Selver, Paul
An Anthology of Czechoslovak Literature London, 1929.
Czechoslovak Literature, an outline London 1942.
Count Lutzow
A History of Bohemian Literature London, 1907.
Manning, Clarence
An Anthology of Czechoslovak Poetry New York, 1929.
# The Soul Of A Century/Dreams of happiness

DREAMS OF HAPPINESS
When in parting we embrace I cannot refrain from tears; Even yonder branch will shudder When its song-bird disappears. When my life begins to fade, Do not ask the reason why; Even well-waters turn cloudy When a stone drops from on high. Know you why my yearning song Still is lingering on my breath? E’en a nightingale sings freely Just before it meets its death.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Soul Of A Century/Belladonna

BELLADONNA
Why do you flaunt before my aching head Love’s blood-stained rose, held boldly in your hand? Why all this flame? I would ask for a tear instead And be content with a lowly amaranth.
My head swoons weakly beneath love’s spent caress I have emptied long ago their cup of lies; And the feeble flame that lights my heart’s recess This, you’ll put out with the tear drops from your eyes.
I do not blame myself, the time, the world, Lord knows that now I would dread an excess of joy; Across my lips, reproach shall not be hurled, My soul refuses hope’s supporting buoy.
Why should we love, I ask you. Tell me why? When we no longer feel love’s scorching breath. Why look for peace, where haste and storms speed by, Where happiness to man comes after death.
Why should we tempt old dreams again to life, When strange to us appears their joyous dance. Why should we live in Fall as when our Spring was rife, Why should we weep when life laughs at its chance.
Our life is like an empty banquet hall Where you feel only hunger and a thirst, When passion’s flame grows weaker with each call, Never again into a blaze to burst.
Where will you find a shield when life has fled, When from feeble hands the sword drops to the ground? When the flowers you would wreathe about your head, Will grow in ridicule upon your mound?
Why flaunt you then before my aching head Love’s blood-stained rose, held boldly in your hand? Why all this flame? I would seek a tear instead And be content with a lowly amaranth.
This work is a translation and has a separate copyright status to the applicable copyright protections of the original content.
# The Seven Seas/The Ladies

Also published in Barrack-Room Ballads (Second Series, 1896).
THE LADIES
I've taken my fun where I've found it; I've rogued an' I've ranged in my time; I've 'ad my pickin' o' sweet'earts, An' four o' the lot was prime. One was an 'arf-caste widow, One was a woman at Prome, One was the wife of a jemadar-sais, An' one is a girl at 'ome.
Now I aren't no 'and with the ladies, For, takin' 'em all along, You never can say till you've tried 'em, An' then you are like to be wrong. There's times when you'll think that you mightn't, There's times when you'll know that you might; But the things you will learn from the Yellow an' Brown, They'll 'elp you a lot with the White!
​I was a young un at 'Oogli, Shy as a girl to begin; Aggie de Castrer she made me, An' Aggie was clever as sin; Older than me, but my first un— More like a mother she were— Showed me the way to promotion an' pay, An' I learned about women from 'er!
Then I was ordered to Burma, Actin' in charge o' Bazar, An' I got me a tiddy live 'eathen Through buy in' supplies off 'er pa. Funny an' yellow an' faithful— Doll in a teacup she were, But we lived on the square, like a true-married pair, An' I learned about women from 'er!
Then we was shifted to Neemuch (Or I might ha' been keepin' 'er now), An' I took with a shiny she-devil, The wife of a nigger at Mhow; ​'Taught me the gipsy-folks' bolee; Kind o' volcano she were, For she knifed me one night 'cause I wished she was white, And I learned about women from 'er!
Then I come 'ome in the trooper, 'Long of a kid o' sixteen— Girl from a convent at Meerut, The straightest I ever 'ave seen. Love at first sight was 'er trouble, She didn't know what it were; An' I wouldn't do such, 'cause I liked 'er too much, But—I learned about women from 'er!
I 've taken my fun where I've found it, An' now I must pay for my fun, For the more you 'ave known o' the others The less will you settle to one; ​An' the end of it's sittin' and thinkin', An' dreamin' Hell-fires to see; So be warned by my lot (which I know you will not), An' learn about women from me!
What did the Colonel's Lady think? Nobody never knew. Somebody asked the Sergeant's wife, An' she told 'em true! When you get to a man in the case, They're like as a row of pins— For the Colonel's Lady an' Judy O'Grady Are sisters under their skins!
* ↑ Head-groom.
* ↑ Slang.
# The Seven Seas/The Last Chantey

First published in Pall Mall Magazine (June 1893).
THE LAST CHANTEY
'And there was no more sea.'
Thus said The Lord in the Vault above the Cherubim, Calling to the Angels and the Souls in their degree: 'Lo! Earth has passed away On the smoke of Judgment Day. That Our word may be established shall We gather up the sea?'
Loud sang the souls of the jolly, jolly mariners: 'Plague upon the hurricane that made us furl and flee! But the war is done between us, In the deep the Lord hath seen us— Our bones we'll leave the barracout', and God may sink the sea!'
​Then said the soul of Judas that betrayed Him: 'Lord, hast Thou forgotten Thy covenant with me? How once a year I go To cool me on the floe? And Ye take my day of mercy if Ye take away the sea!'
Then said the soul of the Angel of the Off-shore Wind: (He that bits the thunder when the bull-mouthed breakers flee): 'I have watch and ward to keep O'er Thy wonders on the deep, And Ye take mine honour from me if Ye take away the sea!'
Loud sang the souls of the jolly, jolly mariners: 'Nay, but we were angry, and a hasty folk are we! If we worked the ship together Till she foundered in foul weather, Are we babes that we should clamour for a vengeance on the sea?'
​Then said the souls of the slaves that men threw overboard: 'Kennelled in the picaroon a weary band were we; But Thy arm was strong to save, And it touched us on the wave, And we drowsed the long tides idle till Thy Trumpets tore the sea.'
Then cried the soul of the stout Apostle Paul to God: 'Once we frapped a ship, and she laboured woundily. There were fourteen score of these, And they blessed Thee on their knees, When they learned Thy Grace and Glory under Malta by the sea!'
Loud sang the souls of the jolly, jolly mariners, Plucking at their harps, and they plucked unhandily: 'Our thumbs are rough and tarred, And the tune is something hard— May we lift a Deepsea Chantey such as seamen use at sea?'
​Then said the souls of the gentlemen-adventurers— Fettered wrist to bar all for red iniquity: 'Ho, we revel in our chains O'er the sorrow that was Spain's; Heave or sink it, leave or drink it, we were masters of the sea!'
Up spake the soul of a gray Gothavn 'speckshioner— (He that led the flinching in the fleets of fair Dundee): 'Oh, the ice-blink white and near, And the bowhead breaching clear! Will Ye whelm them all for wantonness that wallow in the sea?'
Loud sang the souls of the jolly, jolly mariners, Crying: 'Under Heaven, here is neither lead nor lea! Must we sing for evermore On the windless, glassy floor? Take back your golden fiddles and we'll beat to open sea!'
​Then stooped the Lord, and He called the good sea up to Him, And 'stablished his borders unto all eternity, That such as have no pleasure For to praise the Lord by measure, They may enter into galleons and serve Him on the sea.
Sun, wind, and cloud shall fail not from the face of it, Stinging, ringing spindrift, nor the fulmar flying free; And the ships shall go abroad To the Glory of the Lord Who heard the silly sailor-folk and gave them back their sea!
# The Seven Seas/The Liner She's a Lady

THE LINER SHE'S A LADY
The Liner she's a lady, an' she never looks nor 'eeds— The Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband, an' 'e gives 'er all she needs; But, oh, the little cargo-boats, that sail the wet seas roun', They're just the same as you an' me a-plyin' up an' down!
Plyin' up an' down, Jenny, 'angin' round the Yard, All the way by Fratton tram down to Portsmouth 'Ard; Anythin' for business, an' we're growin' old— Plyin' up an' down, Jenny, waitin' in the cold!
​The Liner she's a lady by the paint upon 'er face, An' if she meets an accident they count it sore disgrace: The Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband, and 'e's always 'andy by, But, oh, the little cargo-boats! they've got to load or die.
The Liner she's a lady, and 'er route is cut an' dried; The Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband, an' 'e always keeps beside; But, oh, the little cargo-boats that 'aven't any man, They've got to do their business first, and make the most they can!
The Liner she's a lady, and if a war should come, The Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband, and 'e'd bid 'er stay at home; But, oh, the little cargo-boats that fill with every tide! 'E'd 'ave to up an' fight for them, for they are England's pride.
​The Liner she's a lady, but if she wasn't made, There still would be the cargo-boats for 'ome an' foreign trade. The Man-o'-War's 'er 'usband, but if we wasn't 'ere, 'E wouldn't have to fight at all for 'ome an' friends so dear.
'Ome an' friends so dear, Jenny, 'angin' round the Yard, All the way by Fratton tram down to Portsmouth 'Ard; Anythin' for business, an' we're growin' old— 'Ome an' friends so dear, Jenny, waitin' in the cold!
# The Seven Seas/The King

THE KING
'Farewell, Romance!' the Cave-men said; 'With bone well carved he went away, Flint arms the ignoble arrowhead, And jasper tips the spear to-day. Changed are the Gods of Hunt and Dance, And he with these. Farewell, Romance!'
'Farewell, Romance!' the Lake-folk sighed; 'We lift the weight of flatling years; The caverns of the mountain-side Hold him who scorns our hutted piers. Lost hills whereby we dare not dwell, Guard ye his rest. Romance, Farewell!'
'Farewell, Romance!' the Soldier spoke; 'By sleight of sword we may not win, But scuffle 'mid uncleanly smoke Of arquebus and culverin. ​Honour is lost, and none may tell Who paid good blows. Romance, farewell!'
'Farewell, Romance!' the Traders cried; 'Our keels ha' lain with every sea; The dull-returning wind and tide Heave up the wharf where we would be; The known and noted breezes swell Our trudging sail. Romance, farewell!'
'Good-bye, Romance!' the Skipper said; 'He vanished with the coal we burn; Our dial marks full steam ahead, Our speed is timed to half a turn. Sure as the ferried barge we ply 'Twixt port and port. Romance, good-bye!'
'Romance!' the season-tickets mourn, 'He never ran to catch his train, But passed with coach and guard and horn— And left the local—late again!' Confound Romance! . . . And all unseen Romance brought up the nine-fifteen.
​His hand was on the lever laid, His oil-can soothed the worrying cranks, His whistle waked the snowbound grade, His fog-horn cut the reeking Banks; By dock and deep and mine and mill The Boy-god reckless laboured still!
Robed, crowned and throned, he wove his spell, Where heart-blood beat or hearth-smoke curled, With unconsidered miracle, Hedged in a backward-gazing world; Then taught his chosen bard to say: 'Our King was with us—yesterday!'
# The Seven Seas/The Flowers

THE FLOWERS
THE ATHENÆUM.
Buy my English posies! Kent and Surrey may— Violets of the Undercliff Wet with Channel spray; Cowslips from a Devon combe— Midland furze afire— Buy my English posies And I'll sell your heart's desire!
Buy my English posies! You that scorn the May, Won't you greet a friend from home Half the world away? ​Green against the draggled drift, Faint and frail and first — Buy my Northern blood-root And I'll know where you were nursed: Robin down the logging-road whistles, 'Come to me!' Spring has found the maple-grove, the sap is running free; All the winds of Canada call the ploughing-rain. Take the flower and turn the hour, and kiss your love again!
Buy my English posies! Here's to match your need— Buy a tuft of royal heath, Buy a bunch of weed White as sand of Muysenberg Spun before the gale— Buy my heath and lilies And I'll tell you whence you hail! Under hot Constantia broad the vineyards lie— Throned and thorned the aching berg props the speckless sky— ​Slow below the Wynberg firs trails the tilted wain — Take the flower and turn the hour, and kiss your love again!
Buy my English posies! You that will not turn— Buy my hot-wood clematis, Buy a frond o' fern Gathered where the Erskine leaps Down the road to Lorne— Buy my Christmas creeper And I'll say where you were born! West away from Melbourne dust holidays begin— They that mock at Paradise woo at Cora Lynn— Through the great South Otway gums sings the great South Main— Take the flower and turn the hour, and kiss your love again!
Buy my English posies! Here's your choice unsold! Buy a blood-red myrtle-bloom, Buy the kowhai's gold ​Flung for gift on Taupo's face, Sign that spring is come— Buy my clinging myrtle And I'll give you back your home! Broom behind the windy town; pollen o' the pine— Bell-bird in the leafy deep where the ratas twine— Fern above the saddle-bow, flax upon the plain— Take the flower and turn the hour, and kiss your love again!
Buy my English posies! Ye that have your own Buy them for a brother's sake Overseas, alone. Weed ye trample underfoot Floods his heart abrim— Bird ye never heeded, Oh, she calls his dead to him! Far and far our homes are set round the Seven Seas; Woe for us if we forget, we that hold by these! Unto each his mother-beach, bloom and bird and land— Masters of the Seven Seas, oh, love and understand.