OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Maurine And Other Poems/Secrets

Think not some knowledge rests with thee alone;  Why, even God’s stupendous secret, Death,  We one by one, with our expiring breath, Do pale with wonder seize and make our own; The bosomed treasures of the earth are shown,  Despite her careful hiding; and the air  Yields its mysterious marvels in despair To swell the mighty store-house of things known. In vain the sea expostulates and raves;  It cannot cover from the keen world’s sight  The curious wonders of its coral caves. And so, despite thy caution or thy tears, The prying fingers of detective years  Shall drag thy secret out into the light.
# Maurine And Other Poems/Love’s Burial

Let us clear a little space, And make Love a burial-place.
He is dead, dear, as you see, And he wearies you and me.
Growing heavier, day by day, Let us bury him, I say.
Wings of dead white butterflies, These shall shroud him, as he lies
In his casket rich and rare, Made of finest maiden-hair.
With the pollen of the rose Let us his white eyelids close.
Put the rose thorn in his hand, Shorn of leaves—you understand.
Let some holy water fall On his dead face, tears of gall—
As we kneel by him and say, “Dreams to dreams,” and turn away.
Those gravediggers, Doubt, Distrust, They will lower him to the dust.
Let us part here with a kiss— You go that way, I go this.
Since we buried Love to-day We will walk a separate way.
# Maurine And Other Poems/The Christian’s New Year Prayer

Thou Christ of mine, Thy gracious ear low bending  Through these glad New Year days, To catch the countless prayers to heaven ascending—  For e’en hard hearts do raise Some secret wish for fame, or gold, or power,  Or freedom from all care— Dear, patient Christ, who listeneth hour on hour,  Hear now a Christian’s prayer.
Let this young year that, silent, walks beside me,  Be as a means of grace To lead me up, no matter what betide me,  Nearer the Master’s face. If it need be that ere I reach the Fountain  Where living waters play, My feet should bleed from sharp stones on the mountain,  Then cast them in my way.
If my vain soul needs blows and bitter losses  To shape it for Thy crown, Then bruise it, burn it, burden it with crosses,  With sorrows bear it down. Do what Thou wilt to mould me to Thy pleasure,  And if I should complain, Heap full of anguish yet another measure  Until I smile at pain. Send dangers—deaths! but tell me how to dare them;  Enfold me in Thy care. Send trials, tears! but give me strength to bear them— This is a Christian’s prayer.
# Maurine And Other Poems/Love’s Sleep

We’ll cover Love with roses,  And sweet sleep he shall take None but a fool supposes  Love always keeps awake. I’ve known loves without number—  True loves were they, and tried; And just for want of slumber  They pined away and died.
Our love was bright and cheerful  A little while agone; Now he is pale and tearful,  And—yes, I’ve seen him yawn. So tired is he of kisses  That he can only weep; The one dear thing he misses  And longs for now is sleep.
We could not let him leave us  One time, he was so dear, But now it would not grieve us  If he slept half a year. For he has had his season,  Like the lily and the rose, And it but stands to reason  That he should want repose.
We prized the smiling Cupid  Who made our days so bright; But he has grown so stupid  We gladly say good-night. And if he wakens tender  And fond, and fair as when He filled our lives with splendour,  We’ll take him back again.
And should he never waken,  As that perchance may be, We will not weep forsaken,  But sing, “Love, tra-la-lee!”
# Maurine And Other Poems/The Coquette

Alone she sat with her accusing heart,  That, like a restless comrade, frightened sleep, And every thought that found her left a dart  That hurt her so, she could not even weep.
Her heart that once had been a cup well filled  With love’s red wine, save for some drops of gall, She knew was empty; though it had not spilled  Its sweets for one, but wasted them on all.
She stood upon the grave of her dead truth,  And saw her soul’s bright armour red with rust, And knew that all the riches of her youth  Were Dead Sea apples, crumbling into dust.
Love that had turned to bitter, biting scorn,  Hearthstones despoiled, and homes made desolate, Made her cry out that she was ever born  To loathe her beauty and to curse her fate.
# Maurine And Other Poems/The Past

I fling my past behind me like a robe Worn threadbare in the seams, and out of date. I have outgrown it. Wherefore should I weep And dwell upon its beauty, and its dyes Of Oriental splendour, or complain That I must needs discard it? I can weave Upon the shuttles of the future years A fabric far more durable. Subdued, It may be, in the blending of its hues, Where sombre shades commingle, yet the gleam Of golden warp shall shoot it through and through, While over all a fadeless lustre lies, And starred with gems made out of crystalled tears, My new robe shall be richer than the old.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 128/Issue 1657/Changing Guides

* CHANGING GUIDES.
* Along the road the travellers go,
* A motley cavalcade;
* At midnight, 'midst fast-falling snow,
* The march awhile is stayed.
* And great and small, and one and all,
* Hot youth and lagging age,
* They gather waiting round the stone
* Which marks another stage.
* The journey’s done, the stage is run,
* The guide must say farewell.
* (Hark! down the wind the travellers deem
* They hear a passing-bell.)
* A stage behind, when wailed the wind
* Across a snowy wold,
* They halted, and they halt this night,
* Upon a midnight cold,
* Till this same guide, who stands beside
* The stone, now midnight's near,
* Came, muffled — none his face could see,
* And none his voice could hear.
* If he were glad, if he were sad,
* Not one of them could know;
* But ever as he went along
* His veil he lifted slow.
* If he were sad, if he were glad,
* If he brought good or ill,
* They did not know; but, day by day,
* He told his tale; and still,
* Some called it sad, some said 'twas glad —
* So wondrous was the tale.
* Each saw him as none other saw,
* Who looked behind his veil.
* The stage is run, the tale is done,
* The guide must say farewell;
* And on the wind there comes the sound,
* As of a passing-bell.
* Now he must go; the winds wail low
* Across the snowy wold;
* He takes each traveller by the hand —
* His hand is very cold.
* Of one and all, both great and small,
* How loth soe'er they be,
* Whatever’s false of all they have,
* He claims it for his fee.
* They plead in vain, for, loth or fain,
* They thus his fee must pay;
* But nothing that was truly theirs
* The guide can take away.
* And when he goes none ever knows;
* Their grasp is strong and warm —
* They think they hold him still — but he
* Is whirling down the storm.
* Ere they can say, "Farewell for aye!"
* Far down the storm he's gone.
* The new guide stands with muffled face
* Beside the halting-stone.
* At midnight thus the cavalcade
* Is halted on the plain.
* When midnight's past, to meet the morn
* The march sets forth again.
* Mary A. M. Hoppus
* Good Words.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 128/Issue 1656/The Seasons

* THE SEASONS.
* A blue-eyed child that sits amid the noon,
* O'erhung with a laburnum's drooping sprays,
* Singing her little song, while softly round
* Along the grass the chequered sunshine plays.
* All beauty that is throned in womanhood,
* Facing a summer garden's fountained walks,
* That stoops to smooth a glossy spaniel down,
* To hide her flushing cheeks from one who talks.
* A happy mother with her fair-faced girls,
* In whose sweet spring her youth again she sees,
* With shout, and dance, and laugh, and bound, and song,
* Stripping an autumns orchard laden trees.
* An aged woman in a wintry room —
* Frost on the pane, without the whirling snow —
* Reading old letters of her far-off youth,
* Of sorrows past, and joys of long ago.
* Transcript.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 128/Issue 1657/The Best Use

* THE BEST USE.
* Out of the bud the bright rose bloweth,
* And all the soul of her sweetness goeth
* Abroad to the sun and wind and rain;
* But ah! ah never, in any weather,
* Can she fold up her leaves together,
* And close herself in a bud again!
* But if the sun and wind be sweeter,
* And summer’s beautiful dress completer
* Because of the rose’s graceful part,
* Were it not wiser far and better
* Than, bound and locked in her fair green fetter,
* To die with an untouched virgin heart?
* Mary Ainge De Vere
* Evening Post.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 128/Issue 1656/The New Year

* THE NEW YEAR.
* I greet thee, brave and coming year!
* With thy unwritten, snowy page,
* And dash away the unshed tear
* Would dim thee with its dull presage!
* Hope dances from her dewy bower
* Thy early footstep to beguile;
* And Love, as fresh as Eden's flower,
* Shall wave thee onward with a smile.
* Why carry to thy record fair
* The cares, the sorrows, buried, past?
* Let them float backward on the air,
* And perish like the ocean blast.
* Despair our speech has iron-bound,
* The stoutest heart has often quailed;
* We've flouted Fortune as she frowned,
* But was it Fate, or we, who failed?
* Oft Destiny holds this surprise.
* Fate, smiling, slowly drops her mask;
* Our pain was blessing in disguise,
* And health was hidden in the task.
* We weave but blindly at the loom.
* Nor see the picture, save in parts;
* Not ours to mark the gleam or gloom.
* But labour on with patient hearts.
* When the bright angel overhead
* The soul-wrought tapestry unfurls.
* Perhaps the tears we slowly shed
* May gleam amid the gold like pearls.
* The sorrow which has crushed the life,
* A lily blooms, on azure field;
* And daily care and toil and strife
* In bud and flower may stand revealed.
* One thing is left us undisturbed —
* We still can work and love and give.
* No matter how the life's perturbed.
* If, living, wc learn how to live.
* Then come, thou young and sturdy year,
* Come with proud port, and step elate!
* If dawn is dark, noon may be clear:
* Come, give us heart for any fate!
* M. E. W. S.
* Evening Post.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 128/Issue 1657

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, Volume XIII. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1657. — March 11, 1876. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXXVIII. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | On the Border Territory between the Animal and the Vegetable Kingdoms. By T. H. Huxley, | Macmillan's Magazine, | 643 |
| II. | Her Dearest Foe. By the author of "The Wooing O't." Conclusion, | Temple Bar, | 652 |
| III. | On National Education as a National Duty. By Professor Max Müller | Contemporary Review, | 676 |
| IV. | The Dilemma. - Part XX., | Blackwood's Magazine, | 681 |
| V. | Dutch Guiana. By W. Gifford Palgrave. Part II., | Fortnightly Review, | 687 |
| VI. | Self-Esteem and Self-Estimation, | Cornhill Magazine, | 692 |
| VII. | Tyndall on the Air and Organic Life, | Lancet, | 701 |
| VIII. | Hosts and Hostesses, | Queen, | 702 |
POETRY. :
| Changing Guides, | 642 | The Years, | 642 |
| Under the Apple-Tree, | 642 | The Best Use, | 704 |
| Miscellany, | Miscellany, | Miscellany, | 704 |
# McDonald v. Massachusetts

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
180 U.S. 311
McDonald v. Massachusetts
Argued: January 25, 1901. --- Decided: February 25, 1901
Mr. Francis P. Murphy for plaintiff in error.
Messrs. Hosea M. Knowlton and Arthur W. Degoosh for defendant in error.
Mr. Justice Gray 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
# McDonald v. Hovey

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
110 U.S. 619
McDonald v. Hovey
Skipwith Wilmer and J. Noble Hayes, for appellant.
Chas. W. Hornor and Geo F. Edmunds, for appellees.
BRADLEY, 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
# McDonald v. Mabee

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
243 U.S. 90
McDonald v. Mabee
Argued: January 31, 1917. --- Decided: March 6, 1917
Mr. Henry D. McDonald, in propria persona, and Mr. A. P. Park for plaintiff in error.
Mr. Joseph W. Bailey for defendant in error.
Mr. Justice Holmes 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
# McDonald v. Maxwell

* related portals: Supreme Court of the United States.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
United States Supreme Court
274 U.S. 91
McDonald v. Maxwell
Argued: Jan. 20, 1927. --- Decided: April 11, 1927
Mr. Charles V. Imlay, of Washington, D. C., for petitioners.
Mr. Frederic D. McKenney, of Washington, D. C., for respondents.
Mr. Justice SANFORD 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
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 137/Issue 1770/Hereafter

* HEREAFTER.
* In after years a twilight ghost shall fill
* With shadowy presence all thy waiting room —
* From lips of air thou canst not kiss the bloom,
* Yet at old kisses will thy pulses thrill,
* And the old longing that thou couldst not kill,
* Feeling her presence in the gathering gloom,
* Will mock thee with the hopelessness of doom,
* While she stands there and smiles, serene and still.
* Thou canst not vex her then with passion's pain;
* Call, and the silence will thy call repeat,
* But she will smile there with cold lips and sweet,
* Forgetful of old tortures, and the chain
* That once she wore — the tears she wept in vain
* At passing from her threshold of thy feet.
* Louise Chandler Moulton.
* Macmillan's Magazine.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 137/Issue 1770

LITTELL'S LIVING AGE.
| Fifth Series, Volume XXII. | $\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,$ | No. 1770. — May 18, 1878. | $\scriptstyle {\left\{{\begin{matrix}\ \end{matrix}}\right.}$ | From Beginning Vol. CXXXVII. |
CONTENTS. :
| I. | Popular Buddhism According to the Chinese Canon, | Westminster Review, | 387 |
| II. | Second Sight. Conclusion. Translated for The Living Age, by | E. W. Latimer, | 402 |
| III. | The Poetry of Doubt - Arnold and Clough, | Church Quarterly Review, | 410 |
| IV. | Macleod of Dare. By William Black. Part VIII., | Advance Sheets, | 421 |
| V. | Thomas Arnold, D.D., | Macmillan's Magazine, | 428 |
| VI. | The China-Clay Industry of Cornwall and Devon. By J. H. Collins, F.G.S., Secretary of the Royal Institution of Cornwall, | Popular Science Review, | 434 |
| VII. | Flowers of Anglo-Indian Literature, | St. James's Magazine, | 438 |
| VIII. | The Luxury of Reading Old Novels, | Spectator, | 442 |
| IX. | Courtesy at Home, | Saturday Review, | 444 |
| X. | The Chinese Reconquest of Eastern Turkestan, | Spectator, | 446 |
POETRY. :
| Two Sonnets, | 386 | In a Meadow, | 386 |
| A Child's Heart, | 386 | A Room, | 386 |
| Miscellany, | Miscellany, | Miscellany, | 448 |
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 137/Issue 1770/A Room

* A ROOM.
* In Florence, sacred to a great man's fame
* Remains the room of Michael Angelo,
* Wherein we softly breathe, with motion slow,
* As if a spirit might intrusion blame.
* Could it be yesterday he sketched the same
* Sad Dies Iræ all the world doth know,
* Each touch itself a monument of woe;
* Or are we captive to an ancient name?
* Time's periods move with still increasing might
* Of reverence, for the man whose cunning hand,
* Direct from his soul's impulse, opened sight
* To blind imaginations, whose command
* Removed the hanging veil of Day and Night,
* Where Death and Time are vanquished from the land.
* Athenæum.J. W. Inchbold.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 137/Issue 1770/Her Laureate

* HER LAUREATE.
* I am, indeed, no theme with you for song —
* A poet you, yet not for me your praise —
* You crowned another woman with your bays,
* Lifting your voice to heaven, triumphant, strong,
* And fear by future rhymes to do her wrong:
* If I should walk beside you in your ways
* An echo would pursue us from old days,
* And men would say, "He loved once, and for long!
* So now without great love he is content,
* Since she is dead for whom he used to sing,
* And daily needs demand their aliment."
* Thus some poor bird who strives with broken wing
* To soar, then stoops, strength gone and glad life spent,
* To any hand that his scant food will bring.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 137/Issue 1770/In a Meadow

* IN A MEADOW.
* How may a grateful mortal speak his thanks
* For such a day as this? The rillet plays
* Between a paradise of lilied banks;
* Cool, sheltered by a million moving sprays.
* The early sweets of life, that long had been
* Forgotten in the darkened days of pain,
* Come back to give old charms to each new scene,
* And withered hopes, like trees, grow green again.
* Midmost the leafage of the bending lane,
* Half hid in shade, half shining in the sun,
* Rumbles the heavy, rocking farmer's wain;
* And after it barefooted children run
* To cheer the wagoner, and reach the hay
* Plucked by the hedges; and old women sit
* To knit in silence and to nod away
* The hours on cottage-steps with noon-light lit.
* Cassell's Magazine.Guy Roslyn.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 137/Issue 1770/A Child's Heart

* A CHILD'S HEART.
* BY THE REV. FREDERICK LANGBRIDGE.
* Give me thy heart, O little child!
* Just for one golden hour;
* Thine eyes by passion undefiled,
* Thy soft cheek's peachy dower.
* Give me thy curls that float and fall
* In tangles sweet and wild;
* But more than all, oh, more than all,
* Give me thy heart, O child!
* O glad child’s heart!
* Give me thy heart of careless sun,
* And I will give to thee
* My present schemes, my triumphs won,
* My dreams that might not be,
* My precious hoard of garnered thought
* Piled in the fruitful years,
* My worldly wisdom, dearly bought
* With blood, and toil, and tears,
* O glad child's heart!
* He gives his curls a saucy shake
* And blithely darts away;
* Not all the promises I make
* Will tempt the child to stay.
* For if he lent for one sweet hour
* That priceless boon I lack,
* Full well he knows no earthly power
* Could make me give it back —
* O glad child's heart!
* Sunday Magazine.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 137/Issue 1769/Wind and Weather

* WIND AND WEATHER.
* METEOROLOGICAL IDYL.
* "The sun bursts out in frequent blaze;
* Shade flies, light flashes o'er the wold.
* But yet in air there hangs a haze,
* And what can make it blow so cold?
* "The steeple cock points beak due west;
* His tail the other way turns he.
* Though that, meseems, is where his crest
* In such a breeze as this should be.
* "So cold has Christmas seldom been.
* It ne'er was colder, e'en in May.
* Why does the wind's edge cut so keen?
* Turn, pensive shepherd, turn and say."
* "Stranger, yon vaporous mountains note,
* Cumuli, Alps on Alps, up there!
* They're frozen clouds, aloft that float
* As icebergs in the sea of air.
* "Their rimy crags illumed, how fast
* See how they change, and surge, and grow;
* Whilst Zephyr apes an eastern blast,
* Because the sky is full of snow."
* "Thanks, guardian of the fleecy flock.
* How rare, how pleasing, 'tis to find
* 'Mongst rustics reared from lowly stock
* A cultured and observant mind!"
* "Kind stranger, scant's the laborer's hire
* In this inclement atmosphere;
* And welcome — pardon the desire —
* To his parched lips a draught of beer."
* "Nay, shepherd, breathe not that request;
* Banish strong drink from downs and plains:
* Where Science wears the bumpkin's vest,
* Let Temperance rule contented swains."
* Punch.
# Littell's Living Age/Volume 137/Issue 1770/Miscellany

​Curious Habits of the Japanese. — The Japanese habit of reversing everything, if we may regard our own way of doing as the proper way, is very curious, and in some of its details very interesting. Mr. Griffiths, in his work on Japan, discusses it thus: "Another man is planing. He pulls the plane towards him. I notice a blacksmith at work. He pulls the bellows with his feet, while he is holding and hammering with both hands. He has several irons in the fire, and keeps his dinner pot boiling with the waste flame. His whole family, like the generations before them, seem to get their living in the hardware line. The cooper holds his tubs with his toes. All of them sit down while they work. Perhaps that is an important difference between a European and an Asiatic. One sits down to his work, the other stands up to it. Why is it that we do things contrariwise to the Japanese? Are we upside down, or they? The Japanese say that we are reversed. They call our penmanship "crab writing," because, say they, "it goes backward." The lines in our books cross the page like a crawfish, instead of going downward properly. In a Japanese stable we find the horse's flank where we look for his head. Japanese screws screw the other way. Their locks thrust to the left, ours to the right. The baby toys of the Aryan race squeak when they are squeezed; the Turanian gimcracks emit noise when pulled apart. A Caucasian, to injure his enemy, kills him; a Japanese kills himself to spite his foe. Which race is left-handed? Which has the negative, which the positive of truth? What is truth? What is down? What is up?"Scientific American.
The Theory of Sleep. — A. Strumpell (Pflüger's Archiv) reports the case of a patient, aged sixteen, the whole of whose cutaneous surface was completely insensible, so that the strongest stimuli applied to the skin did not excite any expression of pain. A similar anaesthesia was shown in nearly all the accessible mucous membranes of the body, and muscular sensibility was completely wanting. In addition to this, there was a complete loss of smell and taste. Finally, the right eye was amaurotic, and the left ear deaf; so that, when the left eye was bound up and the right ear stopped, there was no further avenue of stimulus to the patient's brain. When the latter experiment was actually carried out, the patient in about five minutes sank into a deep sleep, from which he could only be roused by the stimulus of light; he could not by shaking only. When he was left to himself, he awoke in the course of the day, after many hours' sleep, either through internal stimuli or from the excitation of the brain through slight and unavoidable stimuli from without. British Medical Journal.