OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Dirge For A Soldier

DIRGE FOR A SOLDIER
In the east the morning comes, Hear the rollin' of the drums  On the hill. But the heart that beat as they beat In the battle's raging day heat  Lieth still. Unto him the night has come, Though they roll the morning drum.
What is in the bugle's blast? It is: "Victory at last!  Now for rest." But, my comrades, come behold him, Where our colors now enfold him,  And his breast Bares no more to meet the blade, But lies covered in the shade.
What a stir there is to-day! They are laying him away  Where he fell. There the flag goes draped before him; Now they pile the grave sod o'er him  With a knell. And he answers to his name In the higher ranks of fame.
There's a woman left to mourn For the child that she has borne  In travail. But her heart beats high and higher, With the patriot mother's fire,  At the tale. She has borne and lost a son, But her work and his are done.
Fling the flag out, let it wave; They 're returning from the grave—  "Double quick!" And the cymbals now are crashing, Bright his comrades' eyes are flashing  From the thick Battle-ranks which knew him brave, No tears for a hero's grave.
In the east the morning comes, Hear the rattle of the drums  Far away. Now no time for grief's pursuing, Other work is for the doing,  Here to-day. He is sleeping, let him rest With the flag across his breast.
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Disappointed

DISAPPOINTED
An old man planted and dug and tended,  Toiling in joy from dew to dew; The sun was kind, and the rain befriended;  Fine grew his orchard and fair to view. Then he said: "I will quiet my thrifty fears, For here is fruit for my failing years."
But even then the storm-clouds gathered,  Swallowing up the azure sky; The sweeping winds into white foam lathered  The placid breast of the bay, hard by; Then the spirits that raged in the darkened air Swept o'er his orchard and left it bare.
The old man stood in the rain, uncaring,  Viewing the place the storm had swept; And then with a cry from his soul despairing,  He bowed him down to the earth and wept. But a voice cried aloud from the driving rain; "Arise, old man, and plant again!"
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Discovered

SEEN you down at chu'ch las' night,  Nevah min', Miss Lucy. What I mean? oh, dat 's all right,  Nevah min', Miss Lucy. You was sma't ez sma't could be, But you could n't hide f'om me. Ain't I got two eyes to see!  Nevah min', Miss Lucy.
Guess you thought you's awful keen;  Nevah min', Miss Lucy. Evahthing you done, I seen;  Nevah min', Miss Lucy. Seen him tek yo' ahm jes' so, When he got outside de do'-- Oh, I know dat man's yo' beau!  Nevah min', Miss Lucy.
Say now, honey, wha'd he say?--  Nevah min', Miss Lucy! Keep yo' secrets--dat's yo' way--  Nevah min', Miss Lucy. Won't tell me an' I'm yo' pal!-- I'm gwine tell his othah gal,-- Know huh, too, huh name is Sal;  Nevah min', Miss Lucy!
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Douglass

DOUGLASS
Ah, Douglass, we have fall'n on evil days,  Such days as thou, not even thou didst know,  When thee, the eyes of that harsh long ago Saw, salient, at the cross of devious ways, And all the country heard thee with amaze.  Not ended then, the passionate ebb and flow,  The awful tide that battled to and fro; We ride amid a tempest of dispraise.
Now, when the waves of swift dissension swarm,  And Honor, the strong pilot, lieth stark, Oh, for thy voice high-sounding o'er the storm,  For thy strong arm to guide the shivering bark, The blast-defying power of thy form,  To give us comfort through the lonely dark.
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Dreamin' Town

DREAMIN' TOWN
Come away to dreamin' town,  Mandy Lou, Mandy Lou, Whaih de skies don' nevah frown,  Mandy Lou; Whaih he streets is paved with gol', Whaih de days is nevah col', An' no sheep strays f'om de fol',  Mandy Lou.
Ain't you tiahed of every day,  Mandy Lou, Mandy Lou, Tek my han' an' come away,  Mandy Lou, To the place whaih dreams is King, Whaih my heart hol's everything, An' my soul can allus sing,  Mandy Lou.
Come away to dream wid me,  Mandy Lou, Mandy Lou, Whaih our hands an' hea'ts are free,  Mandy Lou; Whaih de sands is shinin' white, Whaih de rivahs glistens bright,  Mandy Lou.
Come away to dreamland town,  Mandy Lou, Mandy Lou, Whaih de fruit is bendin' down,  Des fu' you. Smooth your brow of lovin' brown, An' my love will be its crown; Come away to dreamin' town,  Mandy Lou.
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Dream Song II

DREAM SONG II
Pray, what can dreams avail  To make love or to mar? The child within the cradle rail  Lies dreaming of the star. But is the star by this beguiled To leave its place and seek the child?
The poor plucked rose within its glass  Still dreameth of the bee; But, tho' the lagging moments pass,  Her Love she may not see. If dream of child and flower fail, Why should a maiden's dreams prevail?
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Diplomacy

DIPLOMACY
Tell your love where the roses blow,  And the hearts of the lilies quiver, Not in the city's gleam and glow,  But down by a half-sunned river. Not in the crowded ball-room's glare,  That would be fatal, Marie, Marie, How can she answer you then and there?  So come then and stroll with me, my dear,  Down where the birds call, Marie, Marie.
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Dirge

DIRGE
Place this bunch of mignonette  In her cold, dead hand; When the golden sun is set,  Where the poplars stand, Bury her from sun and day, Lay my little love away  From my sight.
She was like a modest flower  Blown in sunny June, Warm as sun at noon's high hour,  Chaster than the moon. Ah, her day was brief and bright, Earth has lost a star of light;  She is dead.
Softly breathe her name to me,—  Ah, I loved her so. Gentle let your tribute be;  None may better know Her true worth than I who weep O'er her as she lies asleep—  Soft asleep.
Lay these lilies on her breast,  They are not more white Than the soul of her, at rest  'Neath their petals bright. Chant your aves soft and low, Solemn be your tread and slow,—  She is dead.
Lay her here beneath the grass,  Cool and green and sweet, Where the gentle brook may pass  Crooning at her feet. Nature's bards shall come and sing, And the fairest flowers shall spring  Where she lies.
Safe above the water's swirl,  She has crossed the bar; Earth has lost a precious pearl,  Heaven has gained a star, That shall ever sing and shine, Till it quells this grief of mine  For my love.
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Distinction

DISTINCTION
"I am but clay," the sinner plead,  Who fed each vain desire. "Not only clay," another said,  "But worse, for thou art mire."
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 Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar/Dream Song I

DREAM SONG I
Long years ago, within a distant clime, Ere Love had touched me with his wand sublime, I dreamed of one to make my life's calm May The panting passion of a summer's day. And ever since, in almost sad suspense, I have been waiting with a soul intense To greet and take unto myself the beams, Of her, my star, the lady of my dreams.
O Love, still longed and looked for, come to me, Be thy far home by mountain, vale, or sea. My yearning heart may never find its rest Until thou liest rapt upon my breast. The wind may bring its perfume from the south, Is it so sweet as breath from my love's mouth? Oh, naught that surely is, and naught that seems May turn me from the lady of my dreams.
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 Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 5/Epistles - First Series/CXX Brahmananda

CXX
(Translated from Bengali)
Gopal Lal Villa, Benares (Varanasi) Cantonment, 24th February, 1902.
This morning I got a small American parcel sent by you. I have received no letter, neither the registered one you refer to nor any other. Whether the Nepalese gentleman came and what happened — I have not been able to know anything at all about it. To write a simple letter so much trouble and so much delay! . . . Now I shall be relieved if I get the accounts. That also I get who knows after how many months! . . .
Yours affectionately, Vivekananda.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 5/Epistles - First Series/IC Joe

IC
Belur Math, Dist. Howrah, 14th February, 1901.
My Dear Joe,(Miss Josephine MacLeod.)
I am ever so glad to hear that Bois is coming to Calcutta. Send him immediately to the Math. I will be here. If possible I will keep him here for a few days and then let him go again to Nepal.
Yours etc., Vivekananda.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 5/Epistles - First Series/CXVI Sister Nivedita

CXVI
Benares (Varanasi), 12th February, 1902.
May all powers come unto you! May Mother Herself be your hands and mind! It is immense power — irresistible — that I pray for you, and, if possible, along with it infinite peace. . . .
If there was any truth in Shri Ramakrishna, may He take you into His leading, even as He did me, nay, a thousand times more!
Vivekananda.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 5/Epistles - First Series/CXXII Joe

CXXII
The Math, Belur, Howrah, 15th May, 1902.
Dear Joe,
I send you the letter to Madame Calvé. . . . I am somewhat better, but of course far from what I expected. A great idea of quiet has come upon me. I am going to retire for good — no more work for me. If possible, I will revert to my old days of begging.
All blessings attend you, Joe; you have been a good angel to me.
With everlasting love, Vivekananda.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 5/Epistles - First Series/CXXI Joe

CXXI
The Math, 21st April, 1902.
Dear Joe, (Miss Josephine MacLeod.)
It seems the plan of going to Japan seems to have come to nought. Mrs. Bull is gone, you are going. I am not sufficiently acquainted with the Japanese.
Sadananda has accompanied the Japanese to Nepal along with Kanai. Christine could not start earlier, as Margot could not go till the end of this month.
I am getting on splendidly, they say, but yet very weak and no water to drink. Anyhow the chemical analysis shows a great improvement. The swelling about the feet and the complaints have all disappeared.
Give my infinite love to Lady Betty and Mr. Leggett, to Alberta and Holly — the baby has my blessings from before birth and will have for ever.
How did you like Mayavati? Write me a line about it.
With everlasting love, Vivekananda.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 5/Epistles - First Series/C Joe

C
The Math, Belur, Howrah, Bengal, 17th February, 1901.
Dear Joe, (Miss Josephine MacLeod.)
Just now received your nice long letter. I am so glad that you met and approve Miss Cornelia Sorabji. I knew her father at Poona, also a younger sister who was in America. Perhaps her mother will remember me as the Sannyasin who used to live with the Thakore Sahib of Limbdi at Poona.
I hope you will go to Baroda and see the Maharani.
I am much better and hope to continue so for some time. I have just now a beautiful letter from Mrs. Sevier in which she writes a whole lot of beautiful things about you.
I am so glad you saw Mr. Tata and find him so strong and good.
I will of course accept an invitation if I am strong enough to go to Bombay.
Do wire the name of the steamer you leave by for Colombo. With all love,
Yours affectionately, Vivekananda.
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 5/Epistles - First Series/CXXIII Dhira Mata

CXXIII
The Math, 14th June, 1902.
Dear Dhirâ Mâtâ,
. . . In my opinion, a race must first cultivate a great respect for motherhood, through the sanctification and inviolability of marriage, before it can attain to the ideal of perfect chastity. The Roman Catholics and the Hindus, holding marriage sacred and inviolate, have produced great chaste men and women of immense power. To the Arab, marriage is a contract or a forceful possession, to be dissolved at will, and we do not find there the development of the idea of the virgin or the Brahmachârin. Modern Buddhism — having fallen among races who had not yet come up to the evolution of marriage — has made a travesty of monasticism. So until there is developed in Japan a great and sacred ideal about marriage (apart from mutual attraction and love), I do not see how there can be great monks and nuns. As you have come to see that the glory of life is chastity, so my eyes also have been opened to the necessity of this great sanctification for the vast majority, in order that a few lifelong chaste powers may be produced. . . .
I wanted to write many things, but the flesh is weak . . . "Whosoever worships me, for whatsoever desire, I meet him with that." . . .
# The Complete Works of Swami Vivekananda/Volume 5/Epistles - First Series/CX Mary

CX
The Math, Belur, Howrah Dist., Bengal, 27th August, 1901.
My Dear Mary,
I would that my health were what you expected — at least to write you a long letter. It is getting worse, in fact, every day, and so many complications and botherations without that. I have ceased to notice it at all.
I wish you all joy in your lovely Swiss chalet — splendid health, good appetite, and a light study of Swiss or other antiquities just to liven things up a bit. I am so glad you are breathing the free air of the mountains, but sorry that Sam is not in the best of health. Well, there is no anxiety about it, he has naturally such a fine physique. . . .
"Women's moods and man's luck — the gods themselves do not know, what to speak of man?" My instincts may be very feminine, but what I am exercised with just this moment is, that you get a little bit of manliness about you. Oh! Mary, your brain, health, beauty, everything is going to waste just for lack of that one essential — assertion of individuality. Your haughtiness, spirit, etc. are all nonsense, only mockery; you are at best a boarding-school girl, no backbone! no backbone!
Alas! this lifelong leading-string business! This is very harsh, very brutal; but I can't help it. I love you, Mary, sincerely, genuinely; I can't cheat you with namby-pamby sugar candies. Nor do they ever come to me.
Then again, I am a dying man; I have no time to fool in. Wake up, girl. I expect now from you letters of the right slashing order; give it right straight; I need a good deal of rousing.
I did not hear anything of the MacVeaghs when they were here. I have not had any direct message from Mrs. Bull or Niveditâ, but I hear regularly from Mrs. Sevier, and they are all in Norway as guests of Mrs. Bull.
I don't know when Nivedita comes to India or if she ever comes back.
I am in a sense a retired man; I don't keep much note of what is going on about the Movement; then the Movement is getting bigger, and it is impossible for one man to know all about it minutely.
I now do nothing, except trying to eat and sleep and nurse my body the rest of the time. Good-bye, dear Mary; hope we shall meet again somewhere in this life, but, meeting or no meeting, I remain,
Ever your loving brother, Vivekananda.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Caledonians, brave and bold

Caledonians, brave and bold.
[Written by Geo. Macfarren.—Set to music by T. Cooke.]
Caledonians, brave and bold, Heroes, never bought or sold, Sons of sires, who died of old To gild a martial story! Beauty claims the warrior's shield, In her cause the death sword yield Draw and join the battle field, On to death or glory! ​Who would shun the glorious strife? Where's the slave would cling to life, When father, husband, daughter, wife, For prompt relief implore ye? Who would yield soft woman's charms To bless a ruffian foeman's arms? Perish the thought! sound, sound your alarms! On to death or glory!
Here's the path to sluggard peace, Here's the haunt of dastard ease, That sink to death, by slow degrees, Unhonour'd, weak, and hoary: But ye who court a brighter name, This way lies the road to fame; Follow then through flood and flame, And shout, For death or glory!
# The Book of Scottish Song/Campsie Glen

Campsie Glen.
[James Lawson, formerly of Glasgow, now of New York.—Tune, "Kelvin Grove."—Campsie Glen is a beautiful valley near the village or clachan of Campsie in Stirlingshire, rich in geological and botanical treasures, and enlivened by a cascade or waterfall. It is situated about ten miles north of Glasgow, and forms a fevourite summer-day resort to the inhabitants of that city.]
Let us owre to Campsie Glen, bonnie lassie, O, By the dingle that you ken, bonnie lassie, O, To the tree where first we woo'd, And cut our names so rude, Deep in the sauch-tree's wood, bonnie lassie, O.
O'er the willow brig we'll wend, bonnie lassie, O, And the ladders we'U ascend, bonnie Lissie, O, Where the woodroof loves to hide Its scented leaves, beside The streamlets, as they glide, bonnie lassie, O.
Where the blue bell on the brae, bonnie lassie, O, Where the sweetest scented slae, bonnie lassie, O, And the flow'rets ever new, Of nature's painting true, All fragrant bloom for you, bonnie lassie, O.
Where the music of the wood, bonnie Lissie, O, And the dashing of the flood, bonnie lassie, O, O'er the rock and ravine mingle, And glen and mountain dingle, With the merry echoes tingle, bonnie lassie, O.
On the moss-seat we'll recline, bonnie lassie, O, Wi' a hand in each of thine, bonnie lassie, O; The bosom's warmest thrill Beats truer, safter still, As our hearts now glowing fill, bonnie lassie, O.
Then before bright heaven's eye, bonnie lassie, O, We will double love-knots tie, bonnie lassie, O; Then true affection plighted. We'll love and live united, With hearts and hands united, bonnie lassie, O.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Carle Time

Carle Time.
[William Fergusson.—Here first printed.]
O! carle Time, auld carle Time, My blessin' I'd gi'e thee, Gin ye would turn your face, and bring Back by-gane days to me:— Bring back the lang, lang sunny days, When youth an' hope were mine, Wi' a' the friends I lo'ed an' lost, In days o' lang syne.
O! kindly carle, dinna gloom, But leave your onward track, For through the mist o' forty years I fondly wad gang back:— I'll leave behind my lade o' care, And, light o' heart and limb, I'll follow you through early scenes, By distance now made dim.
O! lead me to the dear loved spot, Where childhood's hours were spent, Where misery was but a name, And toil was scarcely kent; Where pleasures hung in clusters round, Like blossoms on the tree; And a' the world I saw, appear'd A paradise to me!
And, gentle carle, let me sit An hour by that auld chair, That bore my mother lang, and see My kindly mother there— O, Time! I'd gi'e you a' I'm worth, Or ever like to be, For ae look o' that blessed face, Sair worn wi' grief for me!
And, carle, there's a birken bower, O' early love the scene— Cleed, cleed again its wither'd boughs, Wi' leaves o' glossy green:— And, O! bring back to meet me there, Frae out the darksome tomb, My early-lost, my bonnie bride, In a' her maiden bloom.
O! cruel carle, I plead in vain— Ye leave me to my fate; Wi' moody brow, and eident step, Ye keep your onward gate: But carle Time, auld carle Time, My blessin' I'd gi'e thee, Gin ye would turn your face, and bring Back by-gane days to me.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Cauld Kail in Aberdeen 1

Cauld Kail in Aberdeen.
[The popular tune of "Cauld Kail in Aberdeen" is not very old—at least it cannot be traced in any of the older musical collections. The following are the earliest words to the tune, and are given in Herd's Collection of 1776. Perhaps the reader may detect in them the meaning of the now proverbial phrase, "Cauld kail in Aberdeen, and custocks in Strathbogie."
Cauld kail in Aberdeen, And custocks in Strathbogie, But yet I fear they'll cook o'er soon, And never warm the cogie. The lasses about Bogie gicht, Their limbs they are sae clean and tight, That if they were but girded right, They'll dance the reel o' Bogie.
Wow, Aberdeen, what did you mean, Sae young a maid to woo, sir? I'm sure it was nae joke to her, Whate'er it was to you, sir. For lasses now are no sae blate But they ken auld folk's out o' date, And better playfare can they get Than custocks in Strathbogie.
The "Bogie," here and elsewhere celebrated, is a stream in Aberdeenshire, which runs through the beautiful strath or valley called Strathbogie. It is not known who was the author of the following convivial song, but it is alluded to by Burns as an old song.]
There's cauld kail in Aberdeen, And custocks in Stra'bogie, Where ilka lad maun ha'e his lass, But I maun ha'e my cogie. For I maun ha'e my cogie, Sirs, I canna want my cogie; I wadna gi'e my three-gir'd cog For a' the wives in Bogie.
Johnny Smith has got a wife Wha scrimps him o' his cogie: But were she mine, upon my life, I'd dook her in a bogie. For I maun ha'e my cogie, sirs, I canna want my cogie; I wadna gi'e my three-gir'd cog For a' the wives in Bogie.
Twa three todlin' weans they ha'e, The pride o' a' Stra'bogie; Whene'er the totums cry for meat, She curses aye his cogie; Crying, Wae betide the three-gir'd cog! Oh, wae betide the cogie! It does mair skaith than a' the ills That happen in Stra'bogie.
She fand him ance at Willie Sharp's; And, what the maist did laugh at, She brak the bicker, spilt the drink, And tightly gouff'd his haffet, Crying, Wae betide the three-gir'd cog! Oh, wae betide the cogie, It does mair skaith than a' the ills That happen in Stra'bogie.
Yet here's to ilka honest soul Wha'll drink wi' me a cogie, And for ilk silly whinging fool, We'll dook him in a bogie. For I maun ha'e my cogie, sirs, I canna want my cogie: I wadna gi'e my three-gir'd cog For a the queans in Bogie.
# The Book of Scottish Song/Can ye lo'e me

Can ye lo'e me.
Can ye lo'e me weel, lassie, to this heart then swiftly flee, Here you aye shall dwell, lassie, more than a' the world to me, When the moonbeams shine sae clear, at that hour by lovers blest, At the gloamin', lassie dear, haste to meet this throbbing breast. Can you lo'e me weel, lassie, to this heart then swiftly flee, Here you aye shall dwell, lassie, more than all the world to me.
Where the burnie flows, lassie, gently owre the mountain side, And the wild flower blows, lassie, watered by the streamlet tide, As the hare-bell's blossoms shine, on the bleak and barren brae, Let that brilliant eye of thine light me on my lonely way. Can ye lo'e me weel, lassie, to this heart then swiftly flee, Here you aye shall dwell, lassie, more than all the world to me.