OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Patients in mental institutions 1946

PATIENTS IN MENTAL INSTITUTIONS
1946
U. S. DEPARTMENT OF COMMERCE
BUREAU OF THE CENSUS
# Poems (Emerson, 1847)/Fable

FABLE.
The mountain and the squirrel Had a quarrel; And the former called the latter 'Little Prig.' Bun replied, 'You are doubtless very big; But all sorts of things and weather Must be taken in together, To make up a year And a sphere. And I think it no disgrace To occupy my place. If I'm not so large as you, You are not so small as I, And not half so spry. I'll not deny you make ​A very pretty squirrel track; Talents differ; all is well and wisely put; If I cannot carry forests on my back, Neither can you crack a nut.'
# Poems (Emerson, 1847)/Forbearance

FORBEARANCE.
Hast thou named all the birds without a gun? Loved the wood-rose, and left it on its stalk? At rich men's tables eaten bread and pulse? Unarmed, faced danger with a heart of trust? And loved so well a high behavior, In man or maid, that thou from speech refrained, Nobility more nobly to repay? O, be my friend, and teach me to be thine!
# Poems (Emerson, 1847)/Etienne de la Boéce

ETIENNE DE LA BOÉCE.
I serve you not, if you I follow, Shadowlike, o'er hill and hollow; And bend my fancy to your leading, All too nimble for my treading. When the pilgrimage is done, And we've the landscape overrun, I am bitter, vacant, thwarted, And your heart is unsupported. Vainly valiant, you have missed The manhood that should yours resist,— Its complement; but if I could, In severe or cordial mood, Lead you rightly to my altar, Where the wisest Muses falter, And worship that world-warming spark Which dazzles me in midnight dark, ​Equalizing small and large, While the soul it doth surcharge, That the poor is wealthy grown, And the hermit never alone,— The traveller and the road seem one With the errand to be done,— That were a man's and lover's part, That were Freedom's whitest chart.
# Poems (Emerson, 1847)/Berrying

BERRYING.
'May be true what I had heard,— Earth 's a howling wilderness, Truculent with fraud and force,' Said I, strolling through the pastures, And along the river-side. Caught among the blackberry vines, Feeding on the Ethiops sweet, Pleasant fancies overtook me. I said, 'What influence me preferred, Elect, to dreams thus beautiful?' The vines replied, 'And didst thou deem No wisdom to our berries went?'
# Poems (Emerson, 1847)/Dirge

DIRGE.
Knows he who tills this lonely field, To reap its scanty corn, What mystic fruit his acres yield At midnight and at morn?
In the long sunny afternoon, The plain was full of ghosts; I wandered up, I wandered down, Beset by pensive hosts.
The winding Concord gleamed below, Pouring as wide a flood As when my brothers, long ago, Came with me to the wood.
​But they are gone,—the holy ones Who trod with me this lovely vale; The strong, star-bright companions Are silent, low, and pale.
My good, my noble, in their prime, Who made this world the feast it was, Who learned with me the lore of time, Who loved this dwelling-place!
They took this valley for their toy, They played with it in every mood; A cell for prayer, a hall for joy,— They treated nature as they would.
They colored the horizon round; Stars flamed and faded as they bade; All echoes hearkened for their sound,— They made the woodlands glad or mad.
I touch this flower of silken leaf, Which once our childhood knew; ​Its soft leaves wound me with a grief Whose balsam never grew.
Hearken to yon pine-warbler Singing aloft in the tree! Hearest thou, O traveller, What he singeth to me?
Not unless God made sharp thine ear With sorrow such as mine, Out of that delicate lay could'st thou Its heavy tale divine.
'Go, lonely man,' it saith; 'They loved thee from their birth; Their hands were pure, and pure their faith,— There are no such hearts on earth.
'Ye drew one mother's milk, One chamber held ye all; A very tender history Did in your childhood fall.
​'Ye cannot unlock your heart, The key is gone with them; The silent organ loudest chants The master's requiem.'
# Poems (Emerson, 1847)/Each and All

EACH AND ALL.
Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown, Of thee from the hill-top looking down; The heifer that lows in the upland farm, Far-heard, lows not thine ear to charm; The sexton, tolling his bell at noon, Deems not that great Napoleon Stops his horse, and lists with delight, Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height; Nor knowest thou what argument Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent. All are needed by each one; Nothing is fair or good alone. I thought the sparrow's note from heaven, Singing at dawn on the alder bough; I brought him home, in his nest, at even; He sings the song, but it pleases not now, ​For I did not bring home the river and sky;— He sang to my ear,—they sang to my eye. The delicate shells lay on the shore; The bubbles of the latest wave Fresh pearls to their enamel gave; And the bellowing of the savage sea Greeted their safe escape to me. I wiped away the weeds and foam, I fetched my sea-born treasures home; But the poor, unsightly, noisome things Had left their beauty on the shore, With the sun, and the sand, and the wild uproar. The lover watched his graceful maid, As 'mid the virgin train she strayed, Nor knew her beauty's best attire Was woven still by the snow-white choir. At last she came to his hermitage, Like the bird from the woodlands to the cage;— The gay enchantment was undone, A gentle wife, but fairy none. Then I said, 'I covet truth; Beauty is unripe childhood's cheat; ​I leave it behind with the games of youth.'— As I spoke, beneath my feet The ground-pine curled its pretty wreath, Running over the club-moss burrs; I inhaled the violet's breath; Around me stood the oaks and firs; Pine-cones and acorns lay on the ground, Over me soared the eternal sky, Full of light and of deity; Again I saw, again I heard, The rolling river, the morning bird;— Beauty through my senses stole; I yielded myself to the perfect whole.
# Poems (Emerson, 1847)/Eros

EROS.
The sense of the world is short,— Long and various the report,— To love and be beloved; Men and gods have not outlearned it; And, how oft soe'er they've turned it, 'Tis not to be improved.
# Poems (Emerson, 1847)/Fate

Also published as "Destiny" in later versions.
FATE.
That you are fair or wise is vain, Or strong, or rich, or generous; You must have also the untaught strain That sheds beauty on the rose. There is a melody born of melody, Which melts the world into a sea: Toil could never compass it; Art its height could never hit; It came never out of wit; But a music music-born Well may Jove and Juno scorn. Thy beauty, if it lack the fire Which drives me mad with sweet desire, What boots it? what the soldier's mail, Unless he conquer and prevail? ​What all the goods thy pride which lift, If thou pine for another's gift? Alas! that one is born in blight, Victim of perpetual slight: When thou lookest on his face, Thy heart saith, 'Brother, go thy ways! None shall ask thee what thou doest, Or care a rush for what thou knowest, Or listen when thou repliest, Or remember where thou liest, Or how thy supper is sodden;' And another is born To make the sun forgotten. Surely he carries a talisman Under his tongue; Broad are his shoulders and strong; And his eye is scornful, Threatening, and young. I hold it of little matter Whether your jewel be of pure water, A rose diamond or a white, But whether it dazzle me with light. ​I care not how you are dressed, In the coarsest or in the best; Nor whether your name is base or brave; Nor for the fashion of your behavior; But whether you charm me, Bid my bread feed and my fire warm me, And dress up Nature in your favor One thing is forever good; That one thing is Success,— Dear to the Eumenides, And to all the heavenly brood. Who bides at home, nor looks abroad, Carries the eagles, and masters the sword.
# Poems (Emerson, 1847)/Compensation

COMPENSATION.
Why should I keep holiday When other men have none? Why but because, when these are gay, I sit and mourn alone?
And why, when mirth unseals all tongues, Should mine alone be dumb? Ah! late I spoke to silent throngs, And now their hour is come.
# Persian Letters/Letter 116
#### Letter 116

Usbek to the Same
The Romans did not have fewer slaves than we; they had indeed more, but they made a better use of them.
Far from preventing by violent measures the multiplication of their slaves, they, on the contrary, favoured it to the best of their ability; they united them in marriages, of a kind, as much as they could; by this means they filled their houses with servants of both sexes and all ages; and the state with a countless people.
Children which in time became the wealth of a master were born around him without number; he alone was responsible for their upbringing and education; the fathers, freed from that burden, followed only the inclination of nature, and multiplied without the fear of too large a family.
I have told you that among us all the slaves are employed in guarding our wives, and in nothing else; that with regard to the state they are in a perpetual lethargy; with the result that industry and agriculture are necessarily confined to a few freemen and heads of families, who apply themselves as little as possible.
It was not thus among the Romans. The republic made use of this nation of slaves to its own great benefit. Each had his own savings, which he owned on conditions imposed by his master; and this hoard he employed in whatever direction his talent lay. One became a banker; another trafficked in cargoes; this one took to retail dealing; that one applied himself to some industry; or took to farming and cultivated the soil; there was not one of them who did not give himself with all his might to increase his savings, securing for himself in the meantime comfort in his present slavery, and the hope of future liberty; this made a diligent people and encouraged arts and industry.
These slaves, enriched by their thrift and toil, bought their freedom and became citizens. The republic was continually built up, and received into its bosom new families, in proportion as the old ones decayed.
In my future letters I shall perhaps take the opportunity to prove to you that the more men there are in a state, the more prosperous its commerce; I shall prove as easily, that as commerce flourishes, men increase; these two things necessarily aid and abet each other.
Since that is so, how much must this enormous number of slaves, always busy, have grown and increased? Industry and plenty produced them; and they on their side produce plenty and industry.
Paris, the 16th of the moon of Chahban, 1718.
# Persian Letters/Letter 119
#### Letter 119

Usbek to the Same
Having nothing further to say of Asia and Europe, let us pass on to Africa. We can really speak of nothing but its shores, as we do not know the interior.
The Barbary coast, where the Mohammedan religion is established, is not so populous as it was in the times of the Romans, for the reasons I have already given. As to the Guinea coast, it must be terribly depopulated, since for two hundred years the petty kings or village chiefs have been selling their subjects to the European princes for transportation to their American colonies.
A very remarkable thing about this America is, that while it receives every year new inhabitants, it is itself a desert, profiting nothing from the continual drain on Africa. Those slaves, transported into a foreign clime, perish there in thousands; and the work in the mines in which natives and foreigners are constantly employed, the poisonous vapours which issue from them, and the quicksilver which is continually in use, destroy them without remedy.
There is nothing more absurd than to cause countless numbers of men to perish in extracting from the bowels of the earth gold and silver, metals in themselves absolutely useless, and which constitute wealth only because they have been chosen as the symbols of it.
Paris, the last of the moon of Chahban, 1718.
# Persian Letters/Letter 120
#### Letter 120

Usbek to the Same
The fertility of a people depends sometimes on the most trifling circumstances in the world; so that often nothing more is necessary to increase its numbers than to give a new direction to its imagination.
The Jews, always being exterminated, and always increasing again, have repaired their continual losses and destruction by the single hope, shared by all their families, that from one of them shall spring a powerful king who will be the master of the world.
The ancient kings of Persia had such an immense number of subjects, simply because of that dogma of the Magian religion which declares that the deeds of men most acceptable to God are to beget a child, to till a field, and to plant a tree.
If the population of China is so enormous, it is only the result of a certain way of thinking; for since children look upon their parents as gods, reverence them as such in life, and honour them after death with sacrifices by means of which they believe that their souls, absorbed into Tyen, recommence a new existence, each one is bent on increasing a family so dutiful in this life, and so necessary for the next.
On the other hand, the Mohammedan countries become daily more deserted, because of a belief, all-hallowed as it is, which fails not of most baneful effects when it is deeply rooted in the mind. We look upon ourselves as travellers, who ought to think only of another country: useful and lasting works, care to make provision for our children, projects which look beyond our own short and fleeting lives, seem to us somewhat absurd. Easy minded as regards the present, and without anxiety for the future, we trouble neither to repair public buildings, to reclaim wasted lands, nor to cultivate those which are suited for tillage; we live generally in a state of indifference, and allow Providence to do everything.
It is a spirit of vanity which established in Europe the unjust law of primogeniture, so unfavourable to propagation in that it fastens the attention of the father upon one of his children, and turns his eyes from all the others, forcing him in order to make a substantial fortune for one to prevent the settlement of several; and lastly, in that it destroys equality among citizens, which constitutes all their wealth.
Paris, the 4th of the moon of Rhamazan, 1718.
# Persian Letters/Letter 121
#### Letter 121

Usbek to the Same
Countries inhabited by savages are usually thinly peopled, on account of the dislike which they almost always have for toil and tillage. This unfortunate dislike is so strong, that when they invoke a curse against one of their enemies, they can wish him no greater evil than to be reduced to plough a field, believing that hunting and fishing are the only exercises worthy of them.
But, as there are often years in which hunting and fishing are very unproductive, they are desolated by frequent famines; without considering that game and fish are never abundant enough in any country to support a numerous people, because animals always forsake thickly-inhabited districts.
Besides, savage hordes, each numbering two or three hundred people, separated from each other, and having interests as divided as those of two empires, cannot maintain themselves, because they have not the resources of great states, whose members are all in accord, and work together for each other’s good.
There is another custom not less baneful than the first; the cruel habit which the women have of procuring abortion, in order that their pregnancy may not make them disagreeable to their husbands.
There are dreadful laws against this crime, which are carried to excess. Every unmarried woman who does not declare her pregnancy before a magistrate is punished with death if her offspring dies: shame and modesty, accidents even, are no excuses.
Paris, the 9th of the moon of Rhamazan, 1718.
# Poems: Second Series (Dickinson)/In Shadow

XIV.
IN SHADOW
I DREADED that first robin so, But he is mastered now, And I 'm accustomed to him grown,— He hurts a little, though.
I thought if I could only live Till that first shout got by, Not all pianos in the woods Had power to mangle me.
I dared not meet the daffodils, For fear their yellow gown Would pierce me with a fashion So foreign to my own.
I wished the grass would hurry, So when 't was time to see, He 'd be too tall, the tallest one Could stretch to look at me.
I could not bear the bees should come, I wished they 'd stay away In those dim countries where they go: What word had they for me?
They 're here, though; not a creature failed, No blossom stayed away In gentle deference to me, The Queen of Calvary.
Each one salutes me as he goes, And I my childish plumes Lift, in bereaved acknowledgment Of their unthinking drums.
# Poems: Second Series (Dickinson)/Lay this laurel on the one

XLII.
LAY this laurel on the one Too intrinsic for renown. Laurel! veil your deathless tree,— Him you chasten, that is he!
# Poems: Second Series (Dickinson)/It can't be summer,—that got through

​POEMS, 169
                XLVI.
IT can't be summer, — that got through;
It's early yet for spring;
There 's that long town of white to cross
Before the blackbirds sing.
It can't be dying, — it 's too rouge, — The dead shall go in white.
So sunset shuts my question down
With clasps of chrysolite.
# Poems: Second Series (Dickinson)/Melodies Unheard

LVI.
MELODIES UNHEARD.
MUSICIANS wrestle everywhere: All day, among the crowded air, I hear the silver strife; And — waking long before the dawn — Such transport breaks upon the town I think it that "new life!"
It is not bird, it has no nest; Nor band, in brass and scarlet dressed, Nor tambourine, nor man; It is not hymn from pulpit read, — The morning stars the treble led On time's first afternoon!
Some say it is the spheres at play! Some say that bright majority Of vanished dames and men! Some think it service in the place Where we, with late, celestial face, Please God, shall ascertain!
# Poems: Second Series (Dickinson)/It was not death, for I stood up

XXXV.
IT was not death, for I stood up,
And all the dead lie down; It was not night, for all the bells
Put out their tongues, for noon.
It was not frost, for on my flesh
I felt siroccos crawl, Nor fire, for just my marble feet
Could keep a chancel cool.
And yet it tasted like them all; The figures I have seen
Set orderly, for burial,
Reminded me of mine,
As if my life were shaven And fitted to a frame, And could not breathe without a key; And 't was like midnight, some,
When everything that ticked has stopped,
And space stares, all around,
Or grisly frosts, first autumn morns, Repeal the beating ground.
But most like chaos, — stopless, cool, — Without a chance or spar,
Or even a report of land
To justify despair.
# Poems: Second Series (Dickinson)/Like mighty footlights burned the red

XLI.
LIKE mighty footlights burned the red
At bases of the trees, — The far theatricals of day
Exhibiting to these.
'T was universe that did applaud
While, chiefest of the crowd,
Enabled by his royal dress,
Myself distinguished God.
# Poems: Second Series (Dickinson)/In lands I never saw, they say

XII.
IN lands I never saw, they say, Immortal Alps look down, Whose bonnets touch the firmament, Whose sandals touch the town, —
Meek at whose everlasting feet A myriad daisies play. Which, sir, are you, and which am I, Upon an August day?
# Poems: Second Series (Dickinson)/In the Garden

​140 POEMS.
XXIII.
IN THE GARDEN.
A BIRD came down the walk:
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.
And then he drank a dew
From a convenient grass,
And then hopped sidewise to the wall
To let a beetle pass.
He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all abroad,-
They looked like frightened beads, I thought;
He stirred his velvet head
Like one in danger; cautious,
I offered him a crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home
Than oars divide the ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or butterflies, off banks of noon,
Leap, plashless, as they swim.
# Poems: Second Series (Dickinson)/Is Heaven a physician?

XXI.
Is Heaven a physician ? They say that He can heal ;
But medicine posthumous
Is unavailable.
Is Heaven an exchequer?
They speak of what we owe ;
But that negotiation
I'm not a party to.
# Poems (Stephens)/The star of hope

POEMS.
# Poems (Stephens)/The silent meeting

Quakerhill, a beautiful hamlet in Duchess County, N. Y... so named from its Society of Friends, or Quakers.
# Poems (Betham)/Reflection

[(For the last verse I am indebted to the pen of a Friend.]
# Plato (Collins)

* related portals: Ancient Greek philosophy.
* sister projects: Wikidata item.
Layout 2
Ancient Classics for English Readers
EDITED BY THE
REV. W. LUCAS COLLINS, M.A.
PLATO
[Advertisements]
The Volumes published of this Series contain
HOMER: THE ILIAD, by the Editor. HOMER: THE ODYSSEY, by the Same. HERODOTUS, by George C. Swayne, M.A. CÆSAR, by Anthony Trollope. VIRGIL, by the Editor. HORACE, by Theodore Martin. ÆSCHYLUS, by Reginald S. Copleston, M.A. XENOPHON, by Sir Alex. Grant, Bart., LL.D. CICERO, by the Editor. SOPHOCLES, by Clifton W. Collins, M.A. PLINY, by A. Church, M.A., AND W. J. Brodribb, M.A. EURIPIDES, by William Bodham Donne. JUVENAL, by Edward Walford, M.A. ARISTOPHANES, by the Editor. HESIOD & THEOGNIS, by James Davies, M.A. PLAUTUS AND TERENCE, by the Editor. TACITUS, by William Bodham Donne. LUCIAN, by the Editor. PLATO, by Clifton W. Collins. THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY, BY Lord Neaves.
PLATO
BY
CLIFTON W. COLLINS, M.A.
H.M. INSPECTOR OF SCHOOLS
WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS EDINBURGH AND LONDON MDCCCLXXIV
INTRODUCTORY NOTE.
The Dialogues of Plato have been grouped together in this little volume as their subject or argument seemed to suit the requirements of the Chapter in which they will he found, without regard to chronological order. Nor has the vexed question of the "Platonic Canon," or what are or are not the genuine works of Plato, been entered upon in these pages. All the Dialogues attributed to him in Stallbaum's edition are accepted here, and discussed with more or less brevity, as their interest for the general reader seemed to require.
The writer desires to express his deep sense of his obligations to Professor Jowett for permission to use his valuable translation of Plato, from which most of the quotations found in the text (including the extracts marked "J.") have been made. Those ​marked "D." are taken from the translation of the "Republic" by Messrs Davies and Vaughan.
The other authorities most frequently consulted are Grote's 'Plato and the other Companions of Socrates,' Whewell's 'Platonic Dialogues,' Zeller's 'Socrates and the Socratic Schools,' and the Histories of Philosophy by Maurice, Ritter, and Ueberweg.
The writer also wishes to record his sense of the kindness of H. W. Chandler (Waynflete Professor of Moral Philosophy at Oxford), who was good enough to read through the proofs of the first four chapters of this volume.
CONTENTS.
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
# Plato

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Plato."
* sister projects: Wikipedia article, course, Wikidata item.
This is a disambiguation page. It lists works that share the same title. If an article link referred you here, please consider editing it to point directly to the intended page.
* Plato (1865), by John Stuart Mill
* Plato (1874), by Clifton Wilbraham Collins

### Encyclopaedia articles

* "Plato", in Imperial Dictionary of Universal Biography, Volume 3 (1876)
* "Plato," in Encyclopædia Britannica, Ninth Edition (19) (1885)
* "Plato," in Encyclopædia Britannica (11th ed., 1911)
* "Plato and Platonism," in Catholic Encyclopedia, (ed.) by Charles G. Herbermann and others, New York: The Encyclopaedia Press (1913)
For the author, see Author:Plato