OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Osnabrück

Edition of 1879. See also Osnabrück on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
OSNABRÜCK (commonly called in English Osnaburg), a city of Prussia, in the province of Hanover, capital of a district, on the Hase, 71 m. W. of Hanover; pop. in 1871, 23,308. It is surrounded with old walls, and the streets are crooked and narrow. Its cathedral was built in the 12th century. The final conference on the peace of Westphalia was held in the town hall in 1648. There are two gymnasia, two normal schools, and a school of midwifery. The manufactures consist of leather, linens, woollens, iron, machinery, and especially tobacco; all of which have recently been stimulated by increased railway facilities. — Osnabrück, with a considerable territory on both sides of the Hase, was until 1803 a bishopric, which owed its foundation to Charlemagne.
By the terms of the peace of Westphalia it was agreed that it should be alternately governed by a Roman Catholic and a Protestant bishop. The last bishop, Frederick of York, ceded the country to Hanover, in which it was designated a principality, and with Meppen, Lingen, and other territories formed the Landdrostei of its name. It afterward became part of the kingdom of Westphalia, then of the French empire, and after the fall of Napoleon reverted to Hanover. The inhabitants are of Saxon descent. The present diocese of Osnabrück embraces the entire district and East Friesland.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Osnaburg

Edition of 1879. See also the disclaimer.
OSNABURG. See Osnabrück.
# The American Cyclopædia (1879)/Palestrina

Edition of 1879. See also Palestrina on Wikipedia; and the disclaimer.
PALESTRINA (anc. Præneste), a town of Italy, in the province and 23 m. E. S. E. of Rome; pop. about 6,000. It is built almost entirely on the site of the ancient temple of Fortune, which after its restoration by Sulla occupied the whole lower slope of the hill, more than 2,000 ft. high, with a citadel on the summit, which was replaced by a mediae val castle. The only notable buildings are the deserted Barberini palace and the church of San Rosario, with tombs of the Barberini and Colonna families, the latter preponderating here during the middle ages. (See Præneste.)
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Swing Me in the Moonlight

76—SWING ME IN THE MOONLIGHT
Swing me in the moonlight, In the moonlight, to-night Swing high! swing low! Swing me over the apple tree, Joe. Don't stop for a spoon, dear, There's a bright light over-head; I'll pay you Joe the kisses I owe, When the moon has gone to bed.
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/That Dear Old Home of Mine

From Vanity Fair, a.k.a. Very Good Eddie (1915).
32—THAT DEAR OLD HOME OF MINE
Dear old home of mine. I love that simple country town. I seem to hear the old place calling— Calling just come right down to where the birds sing all day long, And where the sun will always shine, I love the waving corn where I was born, I love that dear old home of mine.
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/The Campbells Are Coming

114—THE CAMPBELLS ARE COMING
The Campbells ar' comin,' O ho, O ho! The Campbells ar' comin', O ho, O ho! The Campbells are comin', to bonnie Loch-le-ven, The Campbells are comin', O ho, O ho!
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Some Sort of Somebody

From Vanity Fair, also known as Very Good Eddie (1915)
19—SOME SORT OF SOMEBODY (Vanity Fair)
Some of the time, You think you love a brunette, Some of the time You love a blonde. And sometimes they're short, Or they may be tall— They may pass by, and sometimes they fall. But you love some sort of somebody all of the time.
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Sunshine of Your Smile

Anonymous parody of "The Sunshine of Your Smile" (1913).
41—SUNSHINE OF YOUR SMILE
Dear Fritz, who hands the blighties out so free, Please save a nice sweet cushy one for me, One that will strike me just below the knee, Six months in blighty, oh how sweet t'would be.
Chorus;—
Give me that shell with pellets nice and round, Scatter them all but one upon the ground, Give me that one but let it come a mile And I will give you the sunshine of my smile.
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Sure a Little Bit of Shrapnel

38—SURE A LITTLE BIT OF SHRAPNEL
Tune—A Little Bit of Heaven
Sure a little bit of shrapnel fell from out the sky one day, And it nestled in my shoulder in a kind and loving way, And when the M.O. saw it, Sure it looked so sweet and fair, He said "You're off to Blighty, They will fix you up back there." So he sprinkled it with iodine, to keep the germs away, It's the only way to stop them no matter what you say, But before I left the CCS. he changed his fickle mind, And he marked me down for duty and he sent me up the line.
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Some Day I'll Make You Love Me

From Round the Map (1917).
33—SOMEDAY I'LL MAKE YOU LOVE ME
Someday I'll make you love me, Someday you'll call me dear, You'll feel so lonely, you'll need me only, Someday I know you'll want me near, I know you can't forget me, I know for me you'll sigh; I'll make you miss me, I'll make you kiss me, You'll want me bye and bye.
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Somewhere a Voice is Calling

49—SOMEWHERE A VOICE IS CALLING
Dusk, and the shadows falling, O'er land and sea Somewhere a voice is calling, Calling for me! Dusk, and the shadows falling, O'er land and sea, Somewhere a voice is calling, Calling for me.
Night, and the stars are gleaming, Tender and true Dearest, my heart is dreaming, Dreaming of you! Night, and the stars are gleaming, Tender and true Dearest, my heart is dreaming, Dreaming of you.
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Taffy's Got His Jennie in Glamorgan

68—TAFFY'S GOT HIS JENNIE IN GLAMORGAN
Taffy's got his Jennie in Glamorgan, Sandy's got his Maggie in Dundee, While Michael O'Leary thinks of his dearie, Far across the Irish Sea. Billy's got his Lily up in London, So the boys march on with smiles, For ev'ry Tommy's got a girl somewhere In the dear old British Isles.
# The Canadian Soldiers' Song Book/Take Me Back to Dear Old Canada

39—TAKE ME BACK TO DEAR OLD CANADA
Tune—Cheers
Take me back to dear old Canada, Put me on the boat for old St. John, Take me over there, drop me anywhere, Toronto, Hull or Montreal, well I don't care. I should love to see my best girl, Cuddling up again we soon should be, Whoa, Tiddley, iddley, ighty, I'd sooner be there than Blighty, Canada is the place for me.
# The Bird of Time/Songs of Life/The Soul's Prayer

The Soul's Prayer
In childhood's pride I said to Thee: "O Thou, who mad'st me of Thy breath, Speak, Master, and reveal to me Thine inmost laws of life and death.
"Give me to drink each joy and pain Which Thine eternal hand can mete, For my insatiate soul would drain Earth's utmost bitter, utmost sweet.
"Spare me no bliss, no pang of strife, Withhold no gift or grief I crave, The intricate lore of love and life And mystic knowledge of the grave."
Lord, Thou didst answer stern and low: "Child, I will hearken to thy prayer, And thy unconquered soul shall know All passionate rapture and despair.
"Thou shalt drink deep of joy and fame, And love shall burn thee like a fire, And pain shall cleanse thee like a flame, To purge the dross from thy desire.
"So shall thy chastened spirit yearn To seek from its blind prayer release, And spent and pardoned, sue to learn The simple secret of My peace.
"I, bending from my sevenfold height Will teach thee of My quickening grace, Life is a prism of My light, And Death the shadow of My face."
# The Bird of Time/Songs of Life/The Old Woman

The Old Woman
A lonely old woman sits out in the street 'Neath the boughs of a banyan tree, And hears the bright echo of hurrying feet, The pageant of life going blithely and fleet To the feast of eternity.
Her tremulous hand holds a battered white bowl, If perchance in your pity you fling her a dole; She is poor, she is bent, she is blind, But she lifts a brave heart to the jest of the days, And her withered, brave voice croons its paean of praise, Be the gay world kind or unkind: "La ilaha illa-l-Allah, La ilaha illa-l-Allah, Muhammad-ar-Rasul-Allah."
In hope of your succour, how often in vain, So patient she sits at my gates, In the face of the sun and the wind and the rain, Holding converse with poverty, hunger and pain, And the ultimate sleep that awaits. . . . In her youth she hath comforted lover and son, In her weary old age, O dear God, is there none To bless her tired eyelids to rest? . . . Tho' the world may not tarry to help her or heed, More clear than the cry of her sorrow and need Is the faith that doth solace her breast: "La ilaha illa-l-Allah, La ilaha illa-l-Allah, Muhammad-ar-Rasul-Allah."
# The Bird of Time/Songs of Love and Death/A Rajput Love Song

A Rajput Love Song
[Parvati at her lattice]
O Love! were you a basil-wreath to twine among my tresses, A jewelled clasp of shining gold to bind around my sleeve, O Love! were you the keora's soul that haunts my silken raiment, A bright, vermilion tassel in the girdles that I weave;
O Love! were you the scented fan that lies upon my pillow,
A sandal lute, or silver lamp that burns before my shrine,
Why should I fear the jealous dawn that spreads with cruel laughter, Sad veils of separation between your face and mine?
Haste, O wild-bee hours to the gardens of the sunset! Fly, wild-parrot day to the orchards of the west! Come, O tender night, with your sweet, consoling darkness, And bring me my Beloved to the shelter of my breast!
[Amar Singh in the saddle]
O Love! were you the hooded hawk upon my hand that flutters, Its collar-band of gleaming bells atinkle as I ride, O Love! were you a turban-spray or floating heron-feather, The radiant, swift, unconquered sword that swingeth at my side;
O Love! were you a shield against the arrows of my foemen, An amulet of jade against the perils of the way, How should the drum-beats of the dawn divide me from your bosom, Or the union of the midnight be ended with the day?
Haste, O wild-deer hours, to the meadows of the sunset! Fly, wild stallion day, to the pastures of the west! Come O tranquil night, with your soft, consenting darkness, And hear me to the fragrance of my 'Beloved's breast!
# The Bird of Time/Songs of Love and Death/A Persian Love Song

A Persian Love Song
O Love! I know not why, when you are glad, Gaily my glad heart leaps. Love! I know not why, when you are sad, Wildly my sad heart weeps.
I know not why, if sweet be your repose, My waking heart finds rest, Or if your eyes be dim with pain, sharp throes Of anguish rend my breast.
Hourly this subtle mystery flowers anew, O Love, I know not why . . . Unless it be, perchance, that I am you, Dear love, that you are I!
# The Bird of Time/Songs of Love and Death/A Love Song from the North

A Love Song from the North
Tell me no more of thy love, papeeha, Wouldst thou recall to my heart, papeeha, Dreams of delight that are gone, When swift to my side came the feet of my lover With stars of the dusk and the dawn? I see the soft wings of the clouds on the river, And jewelled with raindrops the mango-leaves quiver, And tender boughs flower on the plain. . . . But what is their beauty to me, papeeha, Beauty of blossom and shower, papeeha, That brings not my lover again?
Tell me no more of thy love, papeeha,
Wouldst thou revive in my heart, papeeha, Grief for the joy that is gone?
I hear the bright peacock in glimmering woodlands Cry to its mate in the dawn; I hear the black koel's slow, tremulous wooing, And sweet in the gardens the calling and cooing Of passionate bulbul and dove. . . . But what is their music to me, papeeha, Songs of their laughter and love, papeeha, To me, forsaken of love?
The papeeha is a bird that comes in Northern India when the mangoes are ripe, and calls "Pi-kahan, Pi-kahan?"—Where is my love?
# The Bird of Time/Songs of Love and Death/Alone

Alone
Alone, O Love, I seek the blossoming glades, The bright, accustomed alleys of delight, Pomegranate-gardens of the mellowing dawn, Serene and sumptuous orchards of the night.
Alone, O Love, I breast the shimmering waves, The changing tides of life's familiar streams, Wide seas of hope, swift rivers of desire, The moon-enchanted estuary of dreams.
But no compassionate wind or comforting star
Brings me sweet word of thine abiding place . . . In what predestined hour of joy or tears Shall I attain the sanctuary of thy face?
# The Bird of Time/Songs of Love and Death/At Twilight — On the way to Golconda

At Twilight
On the way to Golconda
Weary, I sought kind Death among the rills That drink of purple twilight where the plain Broods in the shadow of untroubled hills: I cried, "High dreams and hope and love are vain, Absolve my spirit of its poignant ills, And cleanse me from the bondage of my pain!
"Shall hope prevail where clamorous hate is rife, Shall sweet love prosper or high dreams find place Amid the tumult of reverberant strife 'Twixt ancient creeds, 'twixt race and ancient race, That mars the grave, glad purposes of life, Leaving no refuge save thy succouring face?"
•••••E'en as I spake, a mournful wind drew near, Heavy with scent of drooping roses shed, And incense scattered from the passing bier Of some loved woman canopied in red, Borne with slow chant and swift-remembering tear, To the blind, ultimate silence of the dead. . . .
O lost, O quenched in unawakening sleep The glory of her dear, reluctant eyes! O hushed the eager feet that knew the steep And intricate ways of ecstasy and sighs! And dumb with alien slumber, dim and deep, The living heart that was love's paradise! •••••Quick with the sense of joys she hath foregone, Returned my soul to beckoning joys that wait, Laughter of children and the lyric dawn, And love's delight, profound and passionate, Winged dreams that blow their golden clarion, And hope that conquers immemorial hate.
# The Bird of Time/Songs of Love and Death

Songs of Love and Death
# The Bird of Time/Songs of Love and Death/An Indian Love Song

An Indian Love Song
Written to an Indian tune
He: Lift up the veils that darken the delicate moon of thy glory and grace, Withhold not, O Love, from the night of my longing the joy of thy luminous face, Give me a spear of the scented keora guarding thy pinioned curls, Or a silken thread from the fringes that trouble the dream of thy glimmering pearls; Faint grows my soul with thy tresses' perfume and the song of thy anklets' caprice, Revive me, I pray, with the magical nectar that dwells in the flower of thy kiss.
She: How shall I yield to the voice of thy pleading, how shall I grant thy prayer, Or give thee a rose-red silken tassel, a scented leaf from my hair? Or fling in the flame of thy heart's desire the veils that cover my face. Profane the law of my father's creed for a foe of my father's race? Thy kinsmen have broken our sacred altars and slaughtered our sacred kine, The feud of old faiths and the blood of old battles sever thy people and mine.
He: What are the sins of my race, Beloved, what are my people to thee?
And what are thy shrine, and kine and kindred, what are thy gods to me? Love recks not of feuds and bitter follies, of stranger, comrade or kin, Alike in his ear sound the temple bells and the cry of the muezzin.
For Love shall cancel the ancient wrong and conquer the ancient rage, Redeem with his tears the memoried sorrow that sullied a bygone age.
# The Bird of Time/Songs of Life/Transience

Transience
Nay, do not grieve tho' life be full of sadness, Dawn will not veil her splendour for your grief, Nor spring deny their bright, appointed beauty To lotus blossom and ashoka leaf.
Nay, do not pine, tho' life be dark with trouble, Time will not pause or tarry on his way; To-day that seems so long, so strange, so bitter, Will soon be some forgotten yesterday.
Nay, do not weep; new hopes, new dreams, new faces, The unspent joy of all the unborn years, Will prove your heart a traitor to its sorrow, And make your eyes unfaithful to their tears.
# The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter/Young Una

From The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter (1907).
YOUNG UNA
Upon the shore young Una lies, A smile upon her mouth; Soft breezes kiss her heavy hair, Slow blowing from the south.
Within the cabin on the hill Her mother doth complain: “God bless the child! her feet are slow To bear her home again.”
Her mother's mother, grey and old, She laughs beside the fire: “Once I was hot as she, a-stór. To gain my heart's desire.”
And Una, smiling on the sea, She speaks no word at all, But watches with untiring eyes The waves that break and fall.
Far in the East her father's ship Lifts the blue waves to foam. Her father's hand upon the helm Now guides the vessel home.
And he hath safe a robe of silk, All gold as Una's hair; Strange jewels, too, from out the West, To deck his child so fair.
But Una with unclosing eyes Looks long towards the South; The spray hangs diamonds on her hair, A smile is on her mouth.
Now Una's lover in the wood, The wood beside the shore. He breathes his passion to the night “Oh, love me, love, a-stór.”
He kneels beside another maid, She leans to hear him speak, His arm is on her shoulder wlute, Her kiss is on his cheek.
But Una, lone upon the shore, Cares naught for what may be; She smiles beneath the changing sky, On shadow-haunted sea.
# The Collected Poems of Rupert Brooke: With a Memoir/Memoir
## Parts

* Part I
* Part II
* Part III
* Part IV
* Part V
* Part VI
* Part VII
* Part VIII
# The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter/Wirastrua

From The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter (1907).
WIRASTRUA
Wirastrua, wirastrua, woe to me that you are dead! The corpse has spoken from out his bed. “Yesternight my burning brain Throbbed and beat on the strings of pain: Now I rest, all my dreaming's done, In the world behind the sun. Yesterday I toiled full sore, To-day I ride in a coach and four. Yesternight in the streets I lay, To-night with kings, and as good as they.” Wirastrua! wirastrua! would I were lying as cold as you.
# The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter/You Will Not Come Again

From The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter (1907).
YOU WILL NOT COME AGAIN
The green has come to the leafless tree, The earth brings forth its grain; The rose has come for the honey bee: You will not come again.
The birds have come to the empty nest, All winter full of rain; Music has come where the silence was: You will not come again.
Love swift will come for the weak lambs' cry; Ah for my heart's dull pain! Lone in the cycle of change am I: You will not come again.
# The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter/Wishes

From The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter (1907).
WISHES
I wish we could live as the flowers live, To breathe and to bloom in the summer and sun; To dumber and sway in the heart of the night, And to die when our glory had done.
I wish we could love as the bees love, To rest or to roam without sorrow or sigh; With laughter, when, after the wooer had won. Love flew with a whispered goodbye.
I wish we could die as the birds die, To fly and to fall when our beauty was best: No trammels of time on the years of our face; And to leave but an empty nest.
# The Collected Poems of Rupert Brooke: With a Memoir/Lust

Entitled "Libido" in the 1915 edition.
How should I know? The enormous wheels of will  Drove me cold-eyed on tired and sleepless feet. Night was void arms and you a phantom still,  And day your far light swaying down the street. As never fool for love, I starved for you;  My throat was dry and my eyes hot to see. Your mouth so lying was most heaven in view,  And your remembered smell most agony.
Love wakens love! I felt your hot wrist shiver  And suddenly the mad victory I planned  Flashed real, in your burning bending head. . . . My conqueror's blood was cool as a deep river  In shadow; and my heart beneath your hand  Quieter than a dead man on a bed.
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 Badminton Library of Sports and Pastimes

The Badminton Library of Sports and Pastimes were a series of books which aimed to cover all major sports and pastimes. The books were published in London by Longmans, Green & Co. and in Boston by Little, Brown & Co. between 1885 and 1902. The Supervising Editor was the Duke of Beaufort assisted by Alfred E. T. Watson.

## Volumes

* Volume 1: Hunting (1885) by the Duke of Beaufort, K.G., Mowbray Morris and others
* Volume 2: Fishing: Salmon & Trout (1885) by H. Cholmondeley-Pennell, Major John P. Traherne, H. R. Francis and others
* Volume 3: Fishing: Pike & Coarse Fish (1885) by H. Cholmondeley-Pennell, Major John P. Traherne, H. R. Francis and others
* Volume 4: Racing & Steeple-Chasing (1886) by the Earl of Suffolk and Berkshire, W. G. Craven, the Hon. F. Lawley, Arthur Coventry and Alfred E. T. Watson
* Volume 5: Shooting: Field & Covert (1886)
* Volume 6: Shooting: Moor & Marsh (1886)
* Volume 7: Cycling (1887) by William Coutts Keppel and Viscount Bury
* Volume 8: Athletics & Football (1887) by Montague Shearman
* Volume 9: Boating (1888) by Walter Bradford Woodgate
* Volume 10: Cricket (1888) by A. G. Steel, R. H. Lyttelton and others
* Volume 11: Driving (1889)
* Volume 12: Fencing, Boxing & Wrestling (1889)
* Volume 13: Golf (1890) by Horace Hutchinson, Arthur James Balfour, Lord Wellwood, Andrew Lang, Sir Walter Simpson, H. S. C. Everard and others
* Volume 14: Tennis, Lawn Tennis, Rackets & Fives (1890) by John Moyer Heathcote, Arthur Lyttelton, W. C. Marshall and others
* Volume 15: Riding & Polo (1891) by J. M. Brown
* Volume 16: Mountaineering (1892)
* Volume 17: Coursing & Falconry (1892)
* Volume 18: Skating & Figure Skating (1892) by John Moyer Heathcote and Charles Goodman Tebbutt
* Volume 19: Swimming (1893)
* Volume 20: Big Game Shooting I (1894)
* Volume 21: Big Game Shooting II (1894)
* Volume 22: Yachting I (1894) by Sir Edward Sullivan
* Volume 23: Yachting II (1894)
* Volume 24: Archery (1894)
* Volume 25: Sea Fishing (1895)
* Volume 26: Dancing (1895) by Mrs Lilly Grove and others
* Volume 27: Billiards (1896)
* Volume 28: The Poetry of Sport (1896) edited by Hedley Peek, Andrew Lang and Alfred E. T. Watson
* Volume 29: Motors and Motor-Driving (1902) by Alfred Charles William Harmsworth (transcription project)
* Volume 30: Rowing & Punting (1898)
* Volume 31: Athletics (1898)
* Volume 32: Football (1899)
* Volume 33: Cricket: A New Edition (1920) by Pelham Warner, with contributions by R. H. Lyttelton and others

## References

* ↑ http://www.publishinghistory.com/badminton-library.html
# The Bait

COME live with me, and be my love, And we will some new pleasures prove Of golden sands, and crystal brooks, With silken lines and silver hooks.
There will the river whisp'ring run Warm'd by thy eyes, more than the sun; And there th' enamour'd fish will stay, Begging themselves they may betray.
When thou wilt swim in that live bath, Each fish, which every channel hath, Will amorously to thee swim, Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.
If thou, to be so seen, be'st loth, By sun or moon, thou dark'nest both, And if myself have leave to see, I need not their light, having thee.
Let others freeze with angling reeds, And cut their legs with shells and weeds, Or treacherously poor fish beset, With strangling snare, or windowy net.
Let coarse bold hands from slimy nest The bedded fish in banks out-wrest; Or curious traitors, sleeve-silk flies, Bewitch poor fishes' wand'ring eyes.
For thee, thou need'st no such deceit, For thou thyself art thine own bait: That fish, that is not catch'd thereby, Alas! is wiser far than 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