OpenLLM-France/wikimedia huggingface dataset:
# Domestic Encyclopædia (1802)/Tile

Edition of 1802.
​TILE, a kind of thin brick, principally employed for covering ​the roofs of houses; though it is sometimes used for paving cellars, kitchens, areas, &c.
Tiles are divided into various sorts, according to the purposes to which they are applied. Thus, Plain tiles are chiefly used for covering houses; and, by the 17 Edw. IV. c. 4, they ought to be 10 1/2 inches in length, 6 1/2 in breadth, and 5-8ths of an inch in thickness.—Ridge-tiles are of a semi-cylindrical form, and, by the statute, must be 13 inches in length, and also 6 1/2 inches in breadth: they are chiefly laid on the ridges of houses.—Corner-tiles are first made flat, in the manner of plain tiles, excepting that they are quadrangular; the two sides forming right lines; and their ends, arches of circles: previously to burning, they are bent on a mould, like ridge-tiles; and ought to be 10 1/2 inches in length, and of a convenient size, being generally placed on the corners of roofs.
There are many other sorts, known under the names of Dutch, or Flanders, crooked, pan-tiles, &c.: but as only those first-mentioned are at present employed for cleaning knives, &c. we shall merely add, that on importation, they pay a duty of 15s. 5d. per thousand.
Lastly, the manner of working the clay, and burning the tiles, being nearly similar to that followed in the manufadture of Bricks, we refer the reader to vol. i, pp. 348-49.
# Ding Dong

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Ding Dong."
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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.
* "Ding Dong!," a poem by William Motherwell
* "Ding Dong," a poem by Henry David Thoreau
# Ding Dong Bell

"Ding Dong Bell" or "Ding Dong Dell" is a popular English language nursery rhyme. It has a Roud Folk Song Index number of 12853. Warning: template has been deprecated.
* "Ding-dong-bell" in A Book of Nursery Songs and Rhymes (1895)
* "Ding Dong Bell" in The Baby's Opera (1900)
* "Ding, dong bell" in A Book of Nursery Rhymes (1901)
# Dingle Bank

The poem is said to be about John Cropper
He lived at Dingle Bank - he did; - He lived at Dingle Bank; And in his garden was one Quail, Four tulips and a Tank: And from his window he could see The otion and the River Dee.
His house stood on a Cliff, - it did, Its aspic it was cool; And many thousand little boys Resorted to his school, Where if of progress they could boast He gave them heaps of buttered toast. But he grew rabid-wroth, he did, If they neglected books, And dragged them to adjacent Cliffs With beastly Button Hooks, And there with fatuous glee he threw Them down into the otion blue.
And in the sea they sway, they did, - All playfully about, And some eventually became Sponges, or speckled trout: - But Liverpool doth all bewail Their Fate; - likewise his Garden Quail.

## References

* Lear, Edward by Edward Lear, Edward Mendelson, Laura Huliska-Beith, 2004
* The Complete Nonsense Book, edited by Lady Strachey, 1912, p. 47.

## External links

* Edward Lear Poetry
* Edward Lear Works Online
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
# Dining Out

Song from the musical Fluffy Ruffles.
    When you dine out quelquefois
    On the boulevards or the Bois
    If you chance to be alone
    Very silently you groan.
       Lovely night
       Such a plight
       Hard is my fate
       When I see
       All Paris
       Dining tete-a-tete.
    Des hors' d'oeuvres varies
    And a very nice entree.
    The Champagne is much to dear
    I will have a glass of beer.
       I've the worst
       Kind of thirst
       You ever knew
       Thirst for one
       Ain't much fun
       I've enough for two.
    Bring some lobster mayonnaise
    Done in sev'ral diff'rent ways.
    Then some Poulet Casserole
    And a marble finger bowl.
       Fie for shame
       What's your name
       Whisper, don't fear
       Did you say Maud
       Oh you fraud
       Come in the garden dear.
    Pass the bumpers all around
    Let the bubbling wine abound.
    Little girls what do you say
    Shall we all three get quite gay?
       Fill the Cup
       Drink it up
       We'll have some fun
       Vive Paris
       You shall see
       The night has just begun.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1945, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 78 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Ding Dong (Thoreau)

"When the world grows old by the chimney-side"
* "Ding Dong" in Poems of Nature (1895)
* "Ding Dong" in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau (1906) Vol. 5
* As "The Peal of the Bells" in The Writings of Henry David Thoreau (1906) Vol. 7
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1912 supplement/De Vere, Stephen Edward

​DE VERE, Sir STEPHEN EDWARD, fourth baronet (1812–1904), translator of Horace, and elder brother of the above, was born at Curragh Chase, Adare, co. Limerick, on 26 July 1812. He was educated at Trinity College, Dublin, and shared through life the literary tastes of his family. After reading at Lincoln's Inn, he was called to the Irish bar in 1836. His life was dedicated to the service of his fellow-countrymen, and he worked hard for the relief of the distress during the Irish famine. He believed emigration to be the only panacea, and encouraged the young men to go out to Canada. Hearing of the terrible sufferings of the emigrants on the voyage, in May 1847 he went himself as a steerage passenger to Canada. The emigrant ships were sailing vessels, and the voyage took six weeks or more. He returned to England in the autumn of 1848. His letter describing the voyage was read in the House of Lords by Lord Grey, with the result that the Passengers Act was amended, and proper accommodation provided for emigrants. His admiration of the Irish catholic peasants led him to embrace the Roman catholic religion, and his reception into that church took place during his visit to Canada in 1848.
De Vere was member of parliament for Limerick (1854–9). He was a liberal, but, though opposed to home rule, approved Gladstone's Land Act. He succeeded his brother Vere as fourth baronet in 1880. He died unmarried on 10 Nov. 1904 at Foynes, co. Limerick, an island in the river Shannon, and was buried there, by the door of the Roman catholic church, which was built mainly by his exertions. A fountain was erected in the village during his lifetime to commemorate his work in the district. His kindness to his tenants was remarkable; they were suffered to help themselves to wood from the park, and even, it is said, to the deer. The baronetcy became extinct at his death.
De Vere published 'Translations from Horace' in 1886, together with some original verse. The renderings of Horace are vigorous and are often finely turned, but he expands freely. He wrote also a few pamphlets, including 'Is the Hierarchy an Aggression?' in 1851 (two edits.).
[The Times, 11 Nov. 1904; Wilfrid Ward, Aubrey de Vere, pp. 183-4; Aubrey de Vere, Recollections, 1897, pp. 252-4; private information.]
E. L.
# Dictionary of National Biography, 1912 supplement/De la Rue, Thomas Andros

​DE LA RUE, Sir THOMAS ANDROS, first baronet (1849–1911), printer, born in London on 26 May 1849, was second of the four sons of Warren de la Rue [see Rue, Warren de la], astronomer and inventor, by his wife Georgiana, third daughter of Thomas Bowles of Guernsey. Thomas de la Rue [q. v.] was his grandfather. He entered Rugby in Feb. 1864, and matriculating in 1868 from St. John's College, Cambridge, graduated B.A. in 1871 and proceeded M.A. in 1874. In 1871 he joined the family printing business established by his grandfather, which was celebrated for its playing cards and printed stamps. By his enterprise he helped to increase the firm's reputation for artistic quality and convenience in the production of the postage-stamp, contracts for the manufacture of which the firm held not only for the United Kingdom but for most of the colonies and for many foreign countries. On the death of his father in 1889, and the retirement of his elder brother, Warren, Thomas became head ​of the business, and retained that position until 1896, when the firm became a limited company, of which his three sons subsequently became directors. De la Rue was created a baronet on 17 June 1898. He took a generous interest in the Royal Hospital for Diseases of the Chest City Road, much of his spare tune being devoted to its service. He died at his residence, 52 Cadogan Square, on 10 April 1911, and was buried at Golder's Green. De la Rue married, on 1 Feb. 1876 Emily Maria (d. 11 Oct. 1904), daughter of William Speed, Q.C., by whom he had three sons, of whom Evelyn Andros, the eldest, succeeded to the baronetcy, and a daughter.
[Stationery World, xxxix. 232; Stationery Trades Journal (portrait), xxxii. 236; Lodge's Peerage and Baronetage; Rugby School Register, 1886, ii. 115; Book of Matriculations and Degrees, Univ. of Cambridge, 1851 to 1900, p. 165; The Times, 10 and 15 April 1911, Athenæum, 15 April 1911.]
C. W.
# Dreams & Dust/A Politician

LEADER no more, be judged of us! Hailed Chief, and loved, of yore-- Youth, and the faith of youth, cry out: Leader and Chief no more!
We dreamed a Prophet, flushed with faith, Content to toil in pain If that his sacrifice might be, Somehow, his people's gain.
We saw a vision, and our blood Beat red and hot and strong: "Lead us (we cried) to war against Some foul, embattled wrong!"
We dreamed a Warrior whose sword Was edged for sham and shame; We dreamed a Statesman far above The vulgar lust for fame.
We were not cynics, and we dreamed A Man who made no truce With lies nor ancient privilege Nor old, entrenched abuse.
We dreamed . . . we dreamed . . . Youth dreamed a dream! And even you forgot Yourself, one moment, and dreamed, too-- Struck, while your mood was hot!
Struck three or four good blows . . . and then Turned back to easier things: The cheap applause, the blatant mob, The praise of underlings!
Praise . . . praise . . . was ever man so filled, So avid still, of praise? So hungry for the crowd's acclaim, The sycophantic phrase?
O you whom Greatness beckoned to . . . O swollen Littleness Who turned from Immortality To fawn upon Success!
O blind with love of self, who led Youth's vision to defeat, Bawling and brawling for rewards, Loud, in the common street!
O you who were so quick to judge-- Leader, and loved, of yore-- Hear now the judgment of our youth: Leader and Chief no more!
# Dreams & Dust/Across the Night

Published in the collection Dreams and Dust (1915).
MUCH listening through the silences, Much staring through the night, And lo! the dumb blind distances Are bridged with speech and sight!
Magician Thought, informed of Love, Hath fixed her on the air-- Oh, Love and I laughed down the fates And clasped her, here as there!
Across the eerie silences She came in headlong flight, She stormed the serried distances, She trampled space and night!
Oh, foolish scientists might give This miracle a name-- But Love and I care but to know That when we called she came.
And since I find the distances Subservient to my thought, And of the sentient silences More vital speech have wrought,
Then she and I will mock Death's self, For all his vaunted might-- There are no gulfs we dare not leap, As she leapt through the night!
# Dreams & Dust/At Last

Published in the collection Dreams and Dust (1915).
EACH race has died and lived and fought for the "true" gods of that poor race, Unconsciously, divinest thought of each race gild- ing its god's face. And every race that lives and dies shall make itself some other gods, Shall build, with mingled truth and lies, new icons from the world-old clods. Through all the tangled creeds and dreams and shifting shibboleths men hold The false-and-true, inwoven, gleams: a matted mass of dross and gold. Prove, then, thy gods in thine own soul; all others' gods, for thee, are vain; Nor swerved be, struggling for the goal, by bribe of joy nor threat of pain.
As skulls grow broader, so do faiths; as old tongues die, old gods die, too,
And only ghosts of gods and wraiths may meet the backward-gazer's view. Where, where the faiths of yesterday? Ah, whither vanished, whither gone? Say, what Apollos drive to-day adown the flaming slopes of dawn? Oh, does the blank past hide from view forgotten Christs, to be reborn, The future tremble where some new Messiah- Memnon sings the morn? Of all the worlds, say any earth, like dust wind- harried to and fro, Shall give the next Prometheus birth; but say-- at last--you do not know.
How should I know what dawn may gleam beyond the gates of darkness there?-- Which god of all the gods men dream? Why should I whip myself to care? Whichever over all hath place hath shaped and made me what I am; Hath made me strong to front his face, to dare to question though he damn.
Perhaps to cringe and cower and bring a shrine a forced and faithless faith Is far more futile than to fling your laughter in the face of Death. For writhe or whirl in dervish rout, they are not flattered there on high, Or sham belief to hide a doubt--no gods are mine that love a lie! Nor gods that beg belief on earth with portents that some seer foretells-- Is life itself not wonder-worth that we must cry for miracles? Is it not strange enough we breathe? Does every- thing not God reveal? Or must we ever weave and wreathe some creed that shall his face conceal? Some creed of which its prophets cry it holds the secret's all-in-all: Some creed which ever bye and bye doth crumble, totter, to its fall! Say any dream of all the dreams that drift and darkle, glint and glow, Holds most of truth within its gleams; but say --at last--you do not know.
Oh, say the soul, from star to star, with victory wing'd, leap on through space And scale the bastioned nights that bar the secret's inner dwelling-place; Or say it ever roam dim glades where pallid wraiths of long-dead moons Flit like blown feathers through the shades, borne on the breath of sobbing tunes: Say any tide of any time, of all the tides that ebb and flow, Shall buoy us on toward any clime; but say--at last--you do not know!
# Dreams & Dust/At Sunset

THE sun-god stooped from out the sky To kiss the flushing sea, While all the winds of all the world Made jovial melody; The night came hurrying up to hide The lovers with her tent; The governed thunders, rank on rank, Stood mute with wonderment; The pale worn moon, a jealous shade, Peered from the firmament; The early stars, the curious stars, Came peering forth to see What mighty nuptials shook the world With such an ecstasy Whenas the sun-god left the sky To mingle with the sea.
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1929.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1937, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 86 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse
# Dreams & Dust/A Song of Men

Published in the collection Dreams and Dust (1915).
OUT of the soil and the slime, Reeking, they climb,
Out of the muck and the mire, Rank, they aspire;
Filthy with murder and mud, Black with shed blood,
Lust and passion and clay-- Dying, they slay;
Stirred by vague hints of a goal, Seeking a soul!
Groping through terror and night Up to the light:
Life in the dust and the clod Sensing a God;
Flushed of the glamor and gleam Caught from a dream;
Stained of the struggle and toil, Stained of the soil,
Ally of God in the end-- Helper and friend--
Hero and prophet and priest Out of the beast!
# Dreams & Dust/An Open Fire

THESE logs with drama and with dream are rife, For all their golden Summers and green Springs Through leaf and root they sucked the forest's life, Drank in its secret, deep, essential things, Its midwood moods, its mystic runes, Its breathing hushes stirred of faery wings, Its August nights and April noons; The garnered fervors of forgotten Junes Flare forth again and waste away; And in the sap that leaps and sings We hear again the chant the cricket flings Across the hawthorn-scented dusks of May.
# Dreams & Dust/Chant of the Changing Hours

Published in the collection Dreams and Dust (1915).
THE Hours passed by, a fleet, confused crowd; With wafture of blown garments bright as fire, Light, light of foot and laughing, morning-browed, And where they trod the jonquil and the briar Thrilled into jocund life, the dreaming dells Waked to a morrice chime of jostled bells;-- They danced! they danced! to piping such as flings The garnered music of a million Springs Into one single, keener ecstasy;-- One paused and shouted to my questionings: "Lo, I am Youth; I bid thee follow me!"
The Hours passed by; they paced, great lords and proud, Crowned on with sunlight, robed in rich attire; Before their conquering word the brute deed bowed, And Ariel fancies served their large desire;
They spake, and roused the mused soul that dwells In dust, or, smiling, shaped new heavens and hells, Dethroned old gods and made blind beggars kings: "And what art thou," I cried to one, "that brings His mistress, for a brooch, the Galaxy?"-- "I am the plumed Thought that soars and sings: Lo, I am Song; I bid thee follow me!"
The Hours passed by, with veiled eyes endowed Of dream, and parted lips that scarce suspire, To breathing dusk and arrowy moonlight vowed, South wind and shadowy grove and murmuring lyre;-- Swaying they moved, as drows'd of wizard spells Or tranc'd with sight of recent miracles, And yet they trembled, down their folded wings Quivered the hint of sweet withholden things, Ah, bitter-sweet in their intensity! One paused and said unto my wonderings: "Lo, I am Love; I bid thee follow me!"
The Hours passed by, through huddled cities loud With witless hate and stale with stinking mire:
So cowled monks might march with bier and shroud Down streets plague-spotted toward some cleans- ing pyre;-- Yet, lo! strange lilies bloomed in lightless cells, And passionate spirits burst their clayey shells And sang the stricken hope that bleeds and clings: Earth's bruised heart beat in the throbbing strings, And joy still struggled through the threnody! One stern Hour said unto my marvelings: "Lo, I am Life; I bid thee follow me!"
The Hours passed by, the stumbling hours and cowed, Uncertain, prone to tears and childish ire,-- The wavering hours that drift like any cloud At whim of winds or fortunate or dire,-- The feeble shapes that any chance expells; Their wisdom useless, lacking the blood that swells The tensed vein: the hot, swift tide that stings With life. Ah, wise! but naked to the slings Of fate, and plagued of youthful memory! A cracked voice broke upon my pityings: "Lo, I am Age; I bid thee follow me!"
Ah, Youth! we dallied by the babbling wells Where April all her lyric secret tells;-- Ah, Song! we sped our bold imaginings As far as yon red planet's triple rings;-- O Life! O Love! I followed, followed thee! There waits one word to end my journeyings: "Lo, I am Death; I bid thee follow me!"
# Dreams & Dust/A Nightmare

LEAGUES before me, leagues behind, Clamor warring wastes of flood, All the streams of all the worlds Flung together, mad of mood; Through the canon beats a sound, Regular of interval, Distant, drumming, muffled, dull, Thunderously rhythmical;
Crafts slip by my startled soul-- Soul that cowers, a thing apart-- They are corpuscles of blood! That's the throbbing of a heart! God of terrors!--am I mad?-- Through my body, mine own soul, Shrunken to an atom's size, Voyages toward an unguessed goal!
# Dreams & Dust/A Rhyme of the Roads

Published in the collection Dreams and Dust (1915).
PEARL-SLASHED and purple and crimson and fringed with gray mist of the hills, The pennons of morning advance to the music of rock-fretted rills, The dumb forest quickens to song, and the little gusts shout as they fling A floor-cloth of orchard bloom down for the flash- ing, quick feet of the Spring.
To the road, gipsy-heart, thou and I! 'Tis the mad piper, Spring, who is leading; 'Tis the pulse of his piping that throbs through the brain, irresistibly pleading; Full-blossomed, deep-bosomed, fain woman, light- footed, lute-throated and fleet, We have drunk of the wine of this Wanderer's song; let us follow his feet!
Like raveled red girdles flung down by some hoidenish goddess in mirth The tangled roads reach from rim unto utter- most rim of the earth-- We will weave of these strands a strong net, we will snare the bright wings of delight,-- We will make of these strings a sweet lute that will shame the low wind-harps of night.
The clamor of tongues and the clangor of trades in the peevish packed street, The arrogant, jangling Nothings, with iterant, dis- sonant beat, The clattering, senseless endeavor with dross of mere gold for its goal, These have sickened the senses and wearied the brain and straitened the soul.
"Come forth and be cleansed of the folly of strife for things worthless of strife, Come forth and gain life and grasp God by fore- going gains worthless of life"--
It was thus spake the wizard wildwood, low- voiced to the hearkening heart, It was thus sang the jovial hills, and the harper sun bore part.
O woman, whose blood as my blood with the fire of the Spring is aflame, We did well, when the red roads called, that we heeded the call and came-- Came forth to the sweet wise silence where soul may speak sooth unto soul, Vine-wreathed and vagabond Love, with the goal of Nowhere for our goal!
What planet-crowned Dusk that wanders the steeps of our firmament there Hath gems that may match with the dew-opals meshed in thine opulent hair? What wind-witch that skims the curled billows with feet they are fain to caress Hath sandals so wing'd as thine art with a god- like carelessness?
And dare we not dream this is heaven?--to wan- der thus on, ever on. Through the hush-heavy valleys of space, up the flushing red slopes of the dawn?-- For none that seeks rest shall find rest till he ceaseth his striving for rest, And the gain of the quest is the joy of the road that allures to the quest.
# Early One Morning

* Search for titles containing or beginning with: "Early One Morning."
* sister projects: 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.
* Early One Morning, a traditional English folk song
* Early one morning, a poem by Edward Thomas
# Douglas v. Alabama

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

## Concurring Opinions

    Harlan
    Stewart
United States Supreme Court
380 U.S. 415
Douglas v. Alabama
Argued: March 9 and 10, 1965. --- Decided: April 5, 1965
Charles Cleveland, Birmingham, Ala., for petitioner.
Paul T. Gish, Jr., Montgomery, Ala., for respondent.
Mr. Justice BRENNAN 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
# Doughty v. Maxwell/Opinion of the Court

* Court Documents
* Case Syllabus
* Opinion of the Court
United States Supreme Court
372 U.S. 781
Doughty v. Maxwell
The motion for leave to proceed in forma pauperis and the petition for writ of certiorari are granted. The judgment is vacated and the case is remanded for further consideration in light of Gideon v. Wainwright, 372 U.S. 335, 83 S.Ct. 792.

## 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