diff --git a/meta/edgar-allan-poe/the-haunted-palace.yml b/meta/edgar-allan-poe/the-haunted-palace.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..58be8d9 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/edgar-allan-poe/the-haunted-palace.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: edgar-allan-poe/the-haunted-palace +slug: the-haunted-palace +author: Edgar Allan Poe +author_slug: edgar-allan-poe +title: The Haunted Palace +century: 19 +text_path: poems/edgar-allan-poe/the-haunted-palace.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10031 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1839 (pre-1929); text via Project Gutenberg eBook #10031.' +collection_title: The Raven and Other Poems +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10031 diff --git a/meta/edgar-allan-poe/the-valley-of-unrest.yml b/meta/edgar-allan-poe/the-valley-of-unrest.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fb63bcd --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/edgar-allan-poe/the-valley-of-unrest.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: edgar-allan-poe/the-valley-of-unrest +slug: the-valley-of-unrest +author: Edgar Allan Poe +author_slug: edgar-allan-poe +title: The Valley of Unrest +century: 19 +text_path: poems/edgar-allan-poe/the-valley-of-unrest.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10031 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1831 (pre-1929); text via Project Gutenberg eBook #10031.' +collection_title: The Raven and Other Poems +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10031 diff --git a/meta/edgar-allan-poe/to-one-in-paradise.yml b/meta/edgar-allan-poe/to-one-in-paradise.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c3b3700 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/edgar-allan-poe/to-one-in-paradise.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: edgar-allan-poe/to-one-in-paradise +slug: to-one-in-paradise +author: Edgar Allan Poe +author_slug: edgar-allan-poe +title: To One in Paradise +century: 19 +text_path: poems/edgar-allan-poe/to-one-in-paradise.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10031 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1834 (pre-1929); text via Project Gutenberg eBook #10031.' +collection_title: The Raven and Other Poems +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10031 diff --git a/meta/edgar-allan-poe/to-zante.yml b/meta/edgar-allan-poe/to-zante.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..07ffc73 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/edgar-allan-poe/to-zante.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: edgar-allan-poe/to-zante +slug: to-zante +author: Edgar Allan Poe +author_slug: edgar-allan-poe +title: To Zante +century: 19 +text_path: poems/edgar-allan-poe/to-zante.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10031 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1837 (pre-1929); text via Project Gutenberg eBook #10031.' +collection_title: The Raven and Other Poems +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10031 diff --git a/meta/edgar-allan-poe/ulalume.yml b/meta/edgar-allan-poe/ulalume.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9d3184e --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/edgar-allan-poe/ulalume.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: edgar-allan-poe/ulalume +slug: ulalume +author: Edgar Allan Poe +author_slug: edgar-allan-poe +title: Ulalume +century: 19 +text_path: poems/edgar-allan-poe/ulalume.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10031 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1847 (pre-1929); text via Project Gutenberg eBook #10031.' +collection_title: The Raven and Other Poems +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10031 diff --git a/meta/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-arsenal-at-springfield.yml b/meta/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-arsenal-at-springfield.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d2647f7 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-arsenal-at-springfield.yml @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +id: henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-arsenal-at-springfield +slug: the-arsenal-at-springfield +author: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow +author_slug: henry-wadsworth-longfellow +title: The Arsenal at Springfield +century: 19 +text_locale: en +original_language: en +text_direction: ltr +text_path: poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-arsenal-at-springfield.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1365 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: Project Gutenberg ebook sourced from pre-1929 editions and the author died in 1882.' +collection_title: The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1365 diff --git a/meta/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-bridge.yml b/meta/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-bridge.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..72ae214 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-bridge.yml @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +id: henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-bridge +slug: the-bridge +author: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow +author_slug: henry-wadsworth-longfellow +title: The Bridge +century: 19 +text_locale: en +original_language: en +text_direction: ltr +text_path: poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-bridge.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1365 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: Project Gutenberg ebook sourced from pre-1929 editions and the author died in 1882.' +collection_title: The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1365 diff --git a/meta/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-builders.yml b/meta/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-builders.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5d5c43f --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-builders.yml @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +id: henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-builders +slug: the-builders +author: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow +author_slug: henry-wadsworth-longfellow +title: The Builders +century: 19 +text_locale: en +original_language: en +text_direction: ltr +text_path: poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-builders.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1365 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: Project Gutenberg ebook sourced from pre-1929 editions and the author died in 1882.' +collection_title: The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1365 diff --git a/meta/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-cross-of-snow.yml b/meta/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-cross-of-snow.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..02c6121 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-cross-of-snow.yml @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +id: henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-cross-of-snow +slug: the-cross-of-snow +author: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow +author_slug: henry-wadsworth-longfellow +title: The Cross of Snow +century: 19 +text_locale: en +original_language: en +text_direction: ltr +text_path: poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-cross-of-snow.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1365 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: Project Gutenberg ebook sourced from pre-1929 editions and the author died in 1882.' +collection_title: The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1365 diff --git a/meta/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-old-clock-on-the-stairs.yml b/meta/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-old-clock-on-the-stairs.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..063d27d --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-old-clock-on-the-stairs.yml @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +id: henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-old-clock-on-the-stairs +slug: the-old-clock-on-the-stairs +author: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow +author_slug: henry-wadsworth-longfellow +title: The Old Clock on the Stairs +century: 19 +text_locale: en +original_language: en +text_direction: ltr +text_path: poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-old-clock-on-the-stairs.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1365 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: Project Gutenberg ebook sourced from pre-1929 editions and the author died in 1882.' +collection_title: The Complete Poetical Works of Henry Wadsworth Longfellow +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1365 diff --git a/meta/percy-bysshe-shelley/england-in-1819.yml b/meta/percy-bysshe-shelley/england-in-1819.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3e9d099 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/percy-bysshe-shelley/england-in-1819.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: percy-bysshe-shelley/england-in-1819 +slug: england-in-1819 +author: Percy Bysshe Shelley +author_slug: percy-bysshe-shelley +title: England in 1819 +century: 19 +text_path: poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/england-in-1819.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Wikisource +source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Poetical_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley_(ed._Hutchinson,_1914)/Sonnet:_England_in_1819 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1839 (pre-1929); text via English Wikisource.' +collection_title: The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (ed. Hutchinson, 1914) +collection_source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Poetical_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley_(ed._Hutchinson,_1914) diff --git a/meta/percy-bysshe-shelley/lift-not-the-painted-veil.yml b/meta/percy-bysshe-shelley/lift-not-the-painted-veil.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0145de7 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/percy-bysshe-shelley/lift-not-the-painted-veil.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: percy-bysshe-shelley/lift-not-the-painted-veil +slug: lift-not-the-painted-veil +author: Percy Bysshe Shelley +author_slug: percy-bysshe-shelley +title: Lift not the painted veil +century: 19 +text_path: poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/lift-not-the-painted-veil.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Wikisource +source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Poetical_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley_(ed._Hutchinson,_1914)/Sonnet:_%27Lift_not_the_painted_veil%27 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1824 (pre-1929); text via English Wikisource.' +collection_title: The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (ed. Hutchinson, 1914) +collection_source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Poetical_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley_(ed._Hutchinson,_1914) diff --git a/meta/percy-bysshe-shelley/lines-written-among-the-euganean-hills.yml b/meta/percy-bysshe-shelley/lines-written-among-the-euganean-hills.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..23b8862 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/percy-bysshe-shelley/lines-written-among-the-euganean-hills.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: percy-bysshe-shelley/lines-written-among-the-euganean-hills +slug: lines-written-among-the-euganean-hills +author: Percy Bysshe Shelley +author_slug: percy-bysshe-shelley +title: Lines Written among the Euganean Hills +century: 19 +text_path: poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/lines-written-among-the-euganean-hills.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Wikisource +source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Poetical_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley_(ed._Hutchinson,_1914)/Lines_written_among_the_Euganean_Hills +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1819 (pre-1929); text via English Wikisource.' +collection_title: The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (ed. Hutchinson, 1914) +collection_source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Poetical_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley_(ed._Hutchinson,_1914) diff --git a/meta/percy-bysshe-shelley/ode-to-liberty.yml b/meta/percy-bysshe-shelley/ode-to-liberty.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e34fa46 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/percy-bysshe-shelley/ode-to-liberty.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: percy-bysshe-shelley/ode-to-liberty +slug: ode-to-liberty +author: Percy Bysshe Shelley +author_slug: percy-bysshe-shelley +title: Ode to Liberty +century: 19 +text_path: poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/ode-to-liberty.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Wikisource +source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Poetical_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley_(ed._Hutchinson,_1914)/Ode_to_Liberty +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1820 (pre-1929); text via English Wikisource.' +collection_title: The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (ed. Hutchinson, 1914) +collection_source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Poetical_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley_(ed._Hutchinson,_1914) diff --git a/meta/percy-bysshe-shelley/one-word-is-too-often-profaned.yml b/meta/percy-bysshe-shelley/one-word-is-too-often-profaned.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6185c9a --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/percy-bysshe-shelley/one-word-is-too-often-profaned.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: percy-bysshe-shelley/one-word-is-too-often-profaned +slug: one-word-is-too-often-profaned +author: Percy Bysshe Shelley +author_slug: percy-bysshe-shelley +title: One Word Is Too Often Profaned +century: 19 +text_path: poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/one-word-is-too-often-profaned.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Wikisource +source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Poetical_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley_(ed._Hutchinson,_1914)/To_%E2%80%94%E2%80%94%E2%80%94._%27One_word_is_too_often_profaned%27 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1824 (pre-1929); text via English Wikisource.' +collection_title: The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (ed. Hutchinson, 1914) +collection_source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Poetical_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley_(ed._Hutchinson,_1914) diff --git a/meta/robert-browning/a-womans-last-word.yml b/meta/robert-browning/a-womans-last-word.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d8a4774 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/robert-browning/a-womans-last-word.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: robert-browning/a-womans-last-word +slug: a-womans-last-word +author: Robert Browning +author_slug: robert-browning +title: A Woman's Last Word +century: 19 +text_path: poems/robert-browning/a-womans-last-word.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Wikisource +source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/A_Woman%27s_Last_Word +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1855 (pre-1929); text via English Wikisource.' +collection_title: Men and Women +collection_source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Men_and_Women_(Browning) diff --git a/meta/robert-browning/prospice.yml b/meta/robert-browning/prospice.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e516b92 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/robert-browning/prospice.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: robert-browning/prospice +slug: prospice +author: Robert Browning +author_slug: robert-browning +title: Prospice +century: 19 +text_path: poems/robert-browning/prospice.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Wikisource +source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Dramatis_Person%C3%A6/Prospice +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1864 (pre-1929); text via English Wikisource.' +collection_title: Dramatis Personæ +collection_source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Dramatis_Person%C3%A6 diff --git a/meta/robert-browning/soliloquy-of-the-spanish-cloister.yml b/meta/robert-browning/soliloquy-of-the-spanish-cloister.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6086e6d --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/robert-browning/soliloquy-of-the-spanish-cloister.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: robert-browning/soliloquy-of-the-spanish-cloister +slug: soliloquy-of-the-spanish-cloister +author: Robert Browning +author_slug: robert-browning +title: Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister +century: 19 +text_path: poems/robert-browning/soliloquy-of-the-spanish-cloister.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Wikisource +source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Soliloquy_of_the_Spanish_Cloister +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1842 (pre-1929); text via English Wikisource.' +collection_title: Dramatic Lyrics +collection_source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Bells_and_Pomegranates,_First_Series diff --git a/meta/robert-browning/the-lost-mistress.yml b/meta/robert-browning/the-lost-mistress.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..27f2d07 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/robert-browning/the-lost-mistress.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: robert-browning/the-lost-mistress +slug: the-lost-mistress +author: Robert Browning +author_slug: robert-browning +title: The Lost Mistress +century: 19 +text_path: poems/robert-browning/the-lost-mistress.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Wikisource +source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Bells_and_Pomegranates,_Second_Series/The_Lost_Mistress +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1845 (pre-1929); text via English Wikisource.' +collection_title: Dramatic Romances and Lyrics +collection_source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Bells_and_Pomegranates,_Second_Series diff --git a/meta/robert-browning/the-pied-piper-of-hamelin.yml b/meta/robert-browning/the-pied-piper-of-hamelin.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c0d7fdb --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/robert-browning/the-pied-piper-of-hamelin.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: robert-browning/the-pied-piper-of-hamelin +slug: the-pied-piper-of-hamelin +author: Robert Browning +author_slug: robert-browning +title: The Pied Piper of Hamelin +century: 19 +text_path: poems/robert-browning/the-pied-piper-of-hamelin.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Wikisource +source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Bells_and_Pomegranates,_First_Series/The_Pied_Piper_of_Hamelin +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1842 (pre-1929); text via English Wikisource.' +collection_title: Dramatic Lyrics +collection_source_url: https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Bells_and_Pomegranates,_First_Series diff --git a/meta/walt-whitman/i-hear-it-was-charged-against-me.yml b/meta/walt-whitman/i-hear-it-was-charged-against-me.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6b7ee42 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/walt-whitman/i-hear-it-was-charged-against-me.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: walt-whitman/i-hear-it-was-charged-against-me +slug: i-hear-it-was-charged-against-me +author: Walt Whitman +author_slug: walt-whitman +title: I Hear It Was Charged Against Me +century: 19 +text_path: poems/walt-whitman/i-hear-it-was-charged-against-me.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1322 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: Project Gutenberg ebook sourced from pre-1929 editions and the author died in 1892.' +collection_title: Leaves of Grass +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1322 diff --git a/meta/walt-whitman/miracles.yml b/meta/walt-whitman/miracles.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2e835b3 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/walt-whitman/miracles.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: walt-whitman/miracles +slug: miracles +author: Walt Whitman +author_slug: walt-whitman +title: Miracles +century: 19 +text_path: poems/walt-whitman/miracles.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1322 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: Project Gutenberg ebook sourced from pre-1929 editions and the author died in 1892.' +collection_title: Leaves of Grass +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1322 diff --git a/meta/walt-whitman/o-you-whom-i-often-and-silently-come.yml b/meta/walt-whitman/o-you-whom-i-often-and-silently-come.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..46c422e --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/walt-whitman/o-you-whom-i-often-and-silently-come.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: walt-whitman/o-you-whom-i-often-and-silently-come +slug: o-you-whom-i-often-and-silently-come +author: Walt Whitman +author_slug: walt-whitman +title: O You Whom I Often and Silently Come +century: 19 +text_path: poems/walt-whitman/o-you-whom-i-often-and-silently-come.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1322 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: Project Gutenberg ebook sourced from pre-1929 editions and the author died in 1892.' +collection_title: Leaves of Grass +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1322 diff --git a/meta/walt-whitman/to-a-stranger.yml b/meta/walt-whitman/to-a-stranger.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..897d5cf --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/walt-whitman/to-a-stranger.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: walt-whitman/to-a-stranger +slug: to-a-stranger +author: Walt Whitman +author_slug: walt-whitman +title: To a Stranger +century: 19 +text_path: poems/walt-whitman/to-a-stranger.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1322 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: Project Gutenberg ebook sourced from pre-1929 editions and the author died in 1892.' +collection_title: Leaves of Grass +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1322 diff --git a/meta/walt-whitman/when-i-read-the-book.yml b/meta/walt-whitman/when-i-read-the-book.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..89ad889 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/walt-whitman/when-i-read-the-book.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: walt-whitman/when-i-read-the-book +slug: when-i-read-the-book +author: Walt Whitman +author_slug: walt-whitman +title: When I Read the Book +century: 19 +text_path: poems/walt-whitman/when-i-read-the-book.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1322 +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: Project Gutenberg ebook sourced from pre-1929 editions and the author died in 1892.' +collection_title: Leaves of Grass +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1322 diff --git a/meta/william-blake/ah-sunflower.yml b/meta/william-blake/ah-sunflower.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..580d268 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/william-blake/ah-sunflower.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: william-blake/ah-sunflower +slug: ah-sunflower +author: William Blake +author_slug: william-blake +title: Ah, Sunflower +century: 18 +text_path: poems/william-blake/ah-sunflower.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1934/pg1934.txt +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1794 (pre-1929); text via Project Gutenberg eBook #1934.' +collection_title: Songs of Innocence and of Experience +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1934 diff --git a/meta/william-blake/night.yml b/meta/william-blake/night.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0ffe35d --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/william-blake/night.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: william-blake/night +slug: night +author: William Blake +author_slug: william-blake +title: Night +century: 18 +text_path: poems/william-blake/night.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1934/pg1934.txt +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1789 (pre-1929); text via Project Gutenberg eBook #1934.' +collection_title: Songs of Innocence and of Experience +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1934 diff --git a/meta/william-blake/the-echoing-green.yml b/meta/william-blake/the-echoing-green.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..97de69c --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/william-blake/the-echoing-green.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: william-blake/the-echoing-green +slug: the-echoing-green +author: William Blake +author_slug: william-blake +title: The Echoing Green +century: 18 +text_path: poems/william-blake/the-echoing-green.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1934/pg1934.txt +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1789 (pre-1929); text via Project Gutenberg eBook #1934.' +collection_title: Songs of Innocence and of Experience +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1934 diff --git a/meta/william-blake/the-fly.yml b/meta/william-blake/the-fly.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dab7ff8 --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/william-blake/the-fly.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: william-blake/the-fly +slug: the-fly +author: William Blake +author_slug: william-blake +title: The Fly +century: 18 +text_path: poems/william-blake/the-fly.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1934/pg1934.txt +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1794 (pre-1929); text via Project Gutenberg eBook #1934.' +collection_title: Songs of Innocence and of Experience +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1934 diff --git a/meta/william-blake/the-shepherd.yml b/meta/william-blake/the-shepherd.yml new file mode 100644 index 0000000..20d37cc --- /dev/null +++ b/meta/william-blake/the-shepherd.yml @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +id: william-blake/the-shepherd +slug: the-shepherd +author: William Blake +author_slug: william-blake +title: The Shepherd +century: 18 +text_path: poems/william-blake/the-shepherd.txt +text_in_repo: true +source_label: Project Gutenberg +source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/1934/pg1934.txt +public_domain_rationale: 'Public domain in the United States: first published 1789 (pre-1929); text via Project Gutenberg eBook #1934.' +collection_title: Songs of Innocence and of Experience +collection_source_url: https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1934 diff --git a/poems/edgar-allan-poe/the-haunted-palace.txt b/poems/edgar-allan-poe/the-haunted-palace.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9313ea0 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/edgar-allan-poe/the-haunted-palace.txt @@ -0,0 +1,57 @@ +In the greenest of our valleys + By good angels tenanted, + Once a fair and stately palace-- + Radiant palace--reared its head. + In the monarch Thought's dominion-- + It stood there! + Never seraph spread a pinion + Over fabric half so fair! + + Banners yellow, glorious, golden, + On its roof did float and flow, + (This--all this--was in the olden + Time long ago), + And every gentle air that dallied, + In that sweet day, + Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, + A winged odor went away. + + Wanderers in that happy valley, + Through two luminous windows, saw + Spirits moving musically, + To a lute's well-tunëd law, + Bound about a throne where, sitting + (Porphyrogene!) + In state his glory well befitting, + The ruler of the realm was seen. + + And all with pearl and ruby glowing + Was the fair palace door, + Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing, + And sparkling evermore, + A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty + Was but to sing, + In voices of surpassing beauty, + The wit and wisdom of their king. + + But evil things, in robes of sorrow, + Assailed the monarch's high estate. + (Ah, let us mourn!--for never morrow + Shall dawn upon him desolate !) + And round about his home the glory + That blushed and bloomed, + Is but a dim-remembered story + Of the old time entombed. + + And travellers, now, within that valley, + Through the red-litten windows see + Vast forms, that move fantastically + To a discordant melody, + While, like a ghastly rapid river, + Through the pale door + A hideous throng rush out forever + And laugh--but smile no more. + +1838. + + * * * * * diff --git a/poems/edgar-allan-poe/the-valley-of-unrest.txt b/poems/edgar-allan-poe/the-valley-of-unrest.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..58c0ae7 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/edgar-allan-poe/the-valley-of-unrest.txt @@ -0,0 +1,31 @@ +_Once_ it smiled a silent dell + Where the people did not dwell; + They had gone unto the wars, + Trusting to the mild-eyed stars, + Nightly, from their azure towers, + To keep watch above the flowers, + In the midst of which all day + The red sun-light lazily lay, + _Now_ each visitor shall confess + The sad valley's restlessness. + Nothing there is motionless-- + Nothing save the airs that brood + Over the magic solitude. + Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees + That palpitate like the chill seas + Around the misty Hebrides! + Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven + That rustle through the unquiet Heaven + Unceasingly, from morn till even, + Over the violets there that lie + In myriad types of the human eye-- + Over the lilies that wave + And weep above a nameless grave! + They wave:--from out their fragrant tops + Eternal dews come down in drops. + They weep:--from off their delicate stems + Perennial tears descend in gems. + +1831. + + * * * * * diff --git a/poems/edgar-allan-poe/to-one-in-paradise.txt b/poems/edgar-allan-poe/to-one-in-paradise.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc7d538 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/edgar-allan-poe/to-one-in-paradise.txt @@ -0,0 +1,40 @@ +Thou wast that all to me, love, + For which my soul did pine-- + A green isle in the sea, love, + A fountain and a shrine, + All wreathed with fairy fruits and flowers, + And all the flowers were mine. + + Ah, dream too bright to last! + Ah, starry Hope! that didst arise + But to be overcast! + A voice from out the Future cries, + "On! on!"--but o'er the Past + (Dim gulf!) my spirit hovering lies + Mute, motionless, aghast! + + For, alas! alas! with me + The light of Life is o'er! + "No more--no more--no more"-- + (Such language holds the solemn sea + To the sands upon the shore) + Shall bloom the thunder-blasted tree, + Or the stricken eagle soar! + + And all my days are trances, + And all my nightly dreams + Are where thy dark eye glances, + And where thy footstep gleams-- + In what ethereal dances, + By what eternal streams! + + Alas! for that accursed time + They bore thee o'er the billow, + From love to titled age and crime, + And an unholy pillow! + From me, and from our misty clime, + Where weeps the silver willow! + +1835 + + * * * * * diff --git a/poems/edgar-allan-poe/to-zante.txt b/poems/edgar-allan-poe/to-zante.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7a2b947 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/edgar-allan-poe/to-zante.txt @@ -0,0 +1,19 @@ +Fair isle, that from the fairest of all flowers, + Thy gentlest of all gentle names dost take! + How many memories of what radiant hours + At sight of thee and thine at once awake! + How many scenes of what departed bliss! + How many thoughts of what entombed hopes! + How many visions of a maiden that is + No more--no more upon thy verdant slopes! + + _No more!_ alas, that magical sad sound + Transforming all! Thy charms shall please _no more_-- + Thy memory _no more!_ Accursed ground + Henceforward I hold thy flower-enamelled shore, + O hyacinthine isle! O purple Zante! + "Isola d'oro! Fior di Levante!" + +1887. + + * * * * * diff --git a/poems/edgar-allan-poe/ulalume.txt b/poems/edgar-allan-poe/ulalume.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5fbe6a6 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/edgar-allan-poe/ulalume.txt @@ -0,0 +1,106 @@ +The skies they were ashen and sober; + The leaves they were crisped and sere-- + The leaves they were withering and sere; + It was night in the lonesome October + Of my most immemorial year; + It was hard by the dim lake of Auber, + In the misty mid region of Weir-- + It was down by the dank tarn of Auber, + In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir. + + Here once, through an alley Titanic. + Of cypress, I roamed with my Soul-- + Of cypress, with Psyche, my Soul. + These were days when my heart was volcanic + As the scoriac rivers that roll-- + As the lavas that restlessly roll + Their sulphurous currents down Yaanek + In the ultimate climes of the pole-- + That groan as they roll down Mount Yaanek + In the realms of the boreal pole. + + Our talk had been serious and sober, + But our thoughts they were palsied and sere-- + Our memories were treacherous and sere-- + For we knew not the month was October, + And we marked not the night of the year-- + (Ah, night of all nights in the year!) + We noted not the dim lake of Auber-- + (Though once we had journeyed down here)-- + Remembered not the dank tarn of Auber, + Nor the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir. + + And now as the night was senescent + And star-dials pointed to morn-- + As the sun-dials hinted of morn-- + At the end of our path a liquescent + And nebulous lustre was born, + Out of which a miraculous crescent + Arose with a duplicate horn-- + Astarte's bediamonded crescent + Distinct with its duplicate horn. + + And I said--"She is warmer than Dian: + She rolls through an ether of sighs-- + She revels in a region of sighs: + She has seen that the tears are not dry on + These cheeks, where the worm never dies, + And has come past the stars of the Lion + To point us the path to the skies-- + To the Lethean peace of the skies-- + Come up, in despite of the Lion, + To shine on us with her bright eyes-- + Come up through the lair of the Lion, + With love in her luminous eyes." + + But Psyche, uplifting her finger, + Said--"Sadly this star I mistrust-- + Her pallor I strangely mistrust:-- + Oh, hasten!--oh, let us not linger! + Oh, fly!--let us fly!--for we must." + In terror she spoke, letting sink her + Wings till they trailed in the dust-- + In agony sobbed, letting sink her + Plumes till they trailed in the dust-- + Till they sorrowfully trailed in the dust. + + I replied--"This is nothing but dreaming: + Let us on by this tremulous light! + Let us bathe in this crystalline light! + Its Sibyllic splendor is beaming + With Hope and in Beauty to-night:-- + See!--it flickers up the sky through the night! + Ah, we safely may trust to its gleaming, + And be sure it will lead us aright-- + We safely may trust to a gleaming + That cannot but guide us aright, + Since it flickers up to Heaven through the night." + + Thus I pacified Psyche and kissed her, + And tempted her out of her gloom-- + And conquered her scruples and gloom; + And we passed to the end of a vista, + But were stopped by the door of a tomb-- + By the door of a legended tomb; + And I said--"What is written, sweet sister, + On the door of this legended tomb?" + She replied--"Ulalume--Ulalume-- + 'Tis the vault of thy lost Ulalume!" + + Then my heart it grew ashen and sober + As the leaves that were crisped and sere-- + As the leaves that were withering and sere; + And I cried--"It was surely October + On _this_ very night of last year + That I journeyed--I journeyed down here-- + That I brought a dread burden down here! + On this night of all nights in the year, + Ah, what demon has tempted me here? + Well I know, now, this dim lake of Auber-- + This misty mid region of Weir-- + Well I know, now, this dank tarn of Auber,-- + This ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir." + +1847. + + * * * * * diff --git a/poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-arsenal-at-springfield.txt b/poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-arsenal-at-springfield.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6cb576c --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-arsenal-at-springfield.txt @@ -0,0 +1,59 @@ +This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling, + Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms; +But front their silent pipes no anthem pealing + Startles the villages with strange alarms. + +Ah! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary, + When the death-angel touches those swift keys +What loud lament and dismal Miserere + Will mingle with their awful symphonies + +I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus, + The cries of agony, the endless groan, +Which, through the ages that have gone before us, + In long reverberations reach our own. + +On helm and harness rings the Saxon hammer, + Through Cimbric forest roars the Norseman's song, +And loud, amid the universal clamor, +O'er distant deserts sounds the Tartar gong. + +I hear the Florentine, who from his palace + Wheels out his battle-bell with dreadful din, +And Aztec priests upon their teocallis + Beat the wild war-drums made of serpent's skin; + +The tumult of each sacked and burning village; + The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns; +The soldiers' revels in the midst of pillage; + The wail of famine in beleaguered towns; + +The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder, + The rattling musketry, the clashing blade; +And ever and anon, in tones of thunder, + The diapason of the cannonade. + +Is it, O man, with such discordant noises, + With such accursed instruments as these, +Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices, + And jarrest the celestial harmonies? + +Were half the power, that fills the world with terror, + Were half the wealth, bestowed on camps and courts, +Given to redeem the human mind from error, + There were no need of arsenals or forts: + +The warrior's name would be a name abhorred! + And every nation, that should lift again +Its hand against a brother, on its forehead + Would wear forevermore the curse of Cain! + +Down the dark future, through long generations, + The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease; +And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, + I hear once more the voice of Christ say, "Peace!" + +Peace! and no longer from its brazen portals + The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies! +But beautiful as songs of the immortals, + The holy melodies of love arise. diff --git a/poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-bridge.txt b/poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-bridge.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0c9d98c --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-bridge.txt @@ -0,0 +1,74 @@ +I stood on the bridge at midnight, + As the clocks were striking the hour, +And the moon rose o'er the city, + Behind the dark church-tower. + +I saw her bright reflection + In the waters under me, +Like a golden goblet falling + And sinking into the sea. + +And far in the hazy distance + Of that lovely night in June, +The blaze of the flaming furnace + Gleamed redder than the moon. + +Among the long, black rafters + The wavering shadows lay, +And the current that came from the ocean + Seemed to lift and bear them away; + +As, sweeping and eddying through them, +Rose the belated tide, +And, streaming into the moonlight, + The seaweed floated wide. + +And like those waters rushing + Among the wooden piers, +A flood of thoughts came o'er me + That filled my eyes with tears. + +How often, oh, how often, + In the days that had gone by, +I had stood on that bridge at midnight + And gazed on that wave and sky! + +How often, oh, how often, + I had wished that the ebbing tide +Would bear me away on its bosom + O'er the ocean wild and wide! + +For my heart was hot and restless, + And my life was full of care, +And the burden laid upon me + Seemed greater than I could bear. + +But now it has fallen from me, + It is buried in the sea; +And only the sorrow of others + Throws its shadow over me. + +Yet whenever I cross the river + On its bridge with wooden piers, +Like the odor of brine from the ocean + Comes the thought of other years. + +And I think how many thousands + Of care-encumbered men, +Each bearing his burden of sorrow, + Have crossed the bridge since then. + +I see the long procession + Still passing to and fro, +The young heart hot and restless, + And the old subdued and slow! + +And forever and forever, + As long as the river flows, +As long as the heart has passions, + As long as life has woes; + +The moon and its broken reflection + And its shadows shall appear, +As the symbol of love in heaven, + And its wavering image here. diff --git a/poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-builders.txt b/poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-builders.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7dbc9ff --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-builders.txt @@ -0,0 +1,44 @@ +All are architects of Fate, + Working in these walls of Time; +Some with massive deeds and great, + Some with ornaments of rhyme. + +Nothing useless is, or low; + Each thing in its place is best; +And what seems but idle show + Strengthens and supports the rest. + +For the structure that we raise, + Time is with materials filled; +Our to-days and yesterdays + Are the blocks with which we build. + +Truly shape and fashion these; + Leave no yawning gaps between; +Think not, because no man sees, + Such things will remain unseen. + +In the elder days of Art, + Builders wrought with greatest care +Each minute and unseen part; + For the Gods see everywhere. + +Let us do our work as well, + Both the unseen and the seen; +Make the house, where Gods may dwell, + Beautiful, entire, and clean. + +Else our lives are incomplete, + Standing in these walls of Time, +Broken stairways, where the feet + Stumble as they seek to climb. + +Build to-day, then, strong and sure, + With a firm and ample base; +And ascending and secure + Shall to-morrow find its place. + +Thus alone can we attain + To those turrets, where the eye +Sees the world as one vast plain, + And one boundless reach of sky. diff --git a/poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-cross-of-snow.txt b/poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-cross-of-snow.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a250831 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-cross-of-snow.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16 @@ +In the long, sleepless watches of the night, + A gentle face--the face of one long dead-- + Looks at me from the wall, where round its head + The night-lamp casts a halo of pale light. +Here in this room she died; and soul more white + Never through martyrdom of fire was led + To its repose; nor can in books be read + The legend of a life more benedight. +There is a mountain in the distant West + That, sun-defying, in its deep ravines + Displays a cross of snow upon its side. +Such is the cross I wear upon my breast + These eighteen years, through all the changing scenes + And seasons, changeless since the day she died. + +************** diff --git a/poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-old-clock-on-the-stairs.txt b/poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-old-clock-on-the-stairs.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fb3cfe8 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/henry-wadsworth-longfellow/the-old-clock-on-the-stairs.txt @@ -0,0 +1,84 @@ +L'eternite est une pendule, dont le balancier dit et redit sans +cesse ces deux mots seulement dans le silence des tombeaux: +"Toujours! jamais! Jamais! toujours!"--JACQUES BRIDAINE. + +Somewhat back from the village street +Stands the old-fashioned country-seat. +Across its antique portico +Tall poplar-trees their shadows throw; +And from its station in the hall +An ancient timepiece says to all,-- + "Forever--never! + Never--forever!" + +Half-way up the stairs it stands, +And points and beckons with its hands +From its case of massive oak, +Like a monk, who, under his cloak, +Crosses himself, and sighs, alas! +With sorrowful voice to all who pass,-- + "Forever--never! + Never--forever!" + +By day its voice is low and light; +But in the silent dead of night, +Distinct as a passing footstep's fall, +It echoes along the vacant hall, +Along the ceiling, along the floor, +And seems to say, at each chamber-door,-- + "Forever--never! + Never--forever!" + +Through days of sorrow and of mirth, +Through days of death and days of birth, +Through every swift vicissitude +Of changeful time, unchanged it has stood, +And as if, like God, it all things saw, +It calmly repeats those words of awe,-- + "Forever--never! + Never--forever!" + +In that mansion used to be +Free-hearted Hospitality; +His great fires up the chimney roared; +The stranger feasted at his board; +But, like the skeleton at the feast, +That warning timepiece never ceased,-- + "Forever--never! + Never--forever!" + +There groups of merry children played, +There youths and maidens dreaming strayed; +O precious hours! O golden prime, +And affluence of love and time! +Even as a Miser counts his gold, +Those hours the ancient timepiece told,-- + "Forever--never! + Never--forever!" + +From that chamber, clothed in white, +The bride came forth on her wedding night; +There, in that silent room below, +The dead lay in his shroud of snow; +And in the hush that followed the prayer, +Was heard the old clock on the stair,-- + "Forever--never! + Never--forever!" + +All are scattered now and fled, +Some are married, some are dead; +And when I ask, with throbs of pain. +"Ah! when shall they all meet again?" +As in the days long since gone by, +The ancient timepiece makes reply,-- + "Forever--never! + Never--forever!" + +Never here, forever there, +Where all parting, pain, and care, +And death, and time shall disappear,-- +Forever there, but never here! +The horologe of Eternity +Sayeth this incessantly,-- + "Forever--never! + Never--forever!" diff --git a/poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/england-in-1819.txt b/poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/england-in-1819.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..89fd02d --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/england-in-1819.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14 @@ +An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,— +Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow +Through public scorn,—mud from a muddy spring,— +Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know, +But leech-like to their fainting country cling, +Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,— +A people starved and stabbed in the unfilled field,— +An army, which liberticide and prey +Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,— +Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay; +Religion Christless, Godless—a book sealed; +A Senate,—Time's worst statute unrepealed,— +Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom may +Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day. diff --git a/poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/lift-not-the-painted-veil.txt b/poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/lift-not-the-painted-veil.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..374752b --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/lift-not-the-painted-veil.txt @@ -0,0 +1,14 @@ +Lift not the painted veil which those who live +Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there, +And it but mimic all we would believe +With colours idly spread,—behind, lurk Fear +And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave +Their shadows, o'er the chasm, sightless and drear. +I knew one who had lifted it—he sought, +For his lost heart was tender, things to love, +But found them not, alas! nor was there aught +The world contains, the which he could approve. +Through the unheeding many he did move, +A splendour among shadows, a bright blot +Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove +For truth, and like the Preacher found it not. diff --git a/poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/lines-written-among-the-euganean-hills.txt b/poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/lines-written-among-the-euganean-hills.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0f76c59 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/lines-written-among-the-euganean-hills.txt @@ -0,0 +1,382 @@ +Many a green isle needs must be +In the deep wide sea of Misery, +Or the mariner, worn and wan, +Never thus could voyage on — +Day and night, and night and day, +Drifting on his dreary way, +With the solid darkness black +Closing round his vessel's track: +Whilst above the sunless sky, +Big with clouds, hangs heavily, +And behind the tempest fleet +Hurries on with lightning feet. +Riving sail, and cord, and plank, +Till the ship has almost drank +Death from the o'er-brimming deep; +And sinks down, down, like that sleep +When the dreamer seems to be +Weltering through eternity; +And the dim low line before +Of a dark and distant shore +Still recedes, as ever still +Longing with divided will, +But no power to seek or shun, +He is ever drifted on +O'er the unreposing wave +To the haven of the grave. +What, if there no friends will greet; +What, if there no heart will meet +His with love's impatient beat; +Wander wheresoe'er he may, +Can he dream before that day +To find refuge from distress +In friendship's smile, in love's caress? +Then 'twill wreak him little woe +Whether such there be or no: +Senseless is the breast, and cold. +Which relenting love would fold +Bloodless are the veins and chill +Which the pulse of pain did fill; +Every little living nerve +That from bitter words did swerve +Round the tortured lips and brow, +Are like sapless leaflets now +Frozen upon December's bough. +On the beach of a northern sea +Which tempests shake eternally, +As once the wretch there lay to sleep, +Lies a solitary heap, +One white skull and seven dry bones, +On the margin of the stones, +Where a few gray rushes stand, +Boundaries of the sea and land: +Nor is heard one voice of wail +But the sea-mews, as they sail +O'er the billows of the gale; +Or the whirlwind up and down +Howling, like a slaughtered town, +When a king in glory rides +Through the pomp of fratricides: +Those unburied bones around +There is many a mournful sound; +There is no lament for him, +Like a sunless vapour, dim, +Who once clothed with life and thought +What now moves nor murmurs not. + +Ay, many flowering islands lie +In the waters of wide Agony: +To such a one this morn was led, +My bark by soft winds piloted: +'Mid the mountains Euganean +I stood listening to the paean +With which the legioned rooks did hail +The sun's uprise majestical; +Gathering round with wings all hoar, +Through the dewy mist they soar +Like gray shades, till the eastern heaven +Bursts, and then, as clouds of even, +Flecked with fire and azure, lie +In the unfathomable sky, +So their plumes of purple grain, +Starred with drops of golden rain, +Gleam above the sunlight woods. +As in silent multitudes +On the morning's fitful gale +Through the broken mist they sail, +And the vapours cloven and gleaming +Follow, down the dark steep streaming, +Till all is bright, and clear, and still. +Round the solitary hill. + +Beneath is spread like a green sea +The waveless plain of Lombardy, +Bounded by the vaporous air, +Islanded by cities fair; +Underneath Day's azure eyes +Ocean's nursling, Venice lies, +A peopled labyrinth of walls, +Amphitrite's destined halls, +Which her hoary sire now paves +With his blue and beaming waves. +Lo! the sun upsprings behind, +Broad, red, radiant, half-reclined +On the level quivering line +Of the waters crystalline: +And before that chasm of light, +As within a furnace bright, +Column, tower, and dome, and spire, +Shine like obelisks of fire, +Pointing with inconstant motion +From the altar of dark ocean +To the sapphire- tinted skies; +As the flames of sacrifice +From the marble shrines did rise, +As to pierce the dome of gold +Where Apollo spoke of old. + +Sun-girt City, thou hast been +Ocean's child, and then his queen; +Now is come a darker day, +And thou soon must be his prey, +If the power that raised thee here +Hallow so thy watery bier. +A less drear ruin then than now, +With thy conquest-branded brow +Stooping to the slave of slaves +From thy throne, among the waves +Wilt thou be, when the sea-mew +Flies, as once before it flew, +O'er thine isles depopulate, +And all is in its ancient state, +Save where many a palace gate +With green sea-flowers overgrown +Like a rock of Ocean's own, +Topples o'er the abandoned sea +As the tides change sullenly. +The fisher on his watery way, +Wandering at the close of day, +Will spread his sail and seize his car +Till he pass the gloomy shore, +Lest thy dead should, from their sleep +Bursting o'er the starlight deep, +Lead a rapid masque of death +O'er the waters of his path. +Those who alone thy towers behold +Quivering through aëreal gold, +As I now behold them here, +Would imagine not they were +Sepulchres, where human forms, +Like pollution-nourished worms, +To the corpse of greatness cling, +Murdered, and now mouldering: +But if Freedom should awake +In her omnipotence, and shake +From the Celtic Anarch's hold +All the keys of dungeons cold, +Where a hundred cities lie +Chained like thee, ingloriously, +Thou and all thy sister band +Might adorn this sunny land, +Twining memories of old time +With new virtues more sublime; +If not, perish thou and they!— +Clouds which stain truth's rising day +By her sun consumed away— +Earth can spare ye: while like flowers, +In the waste of years and hours, +From your dust new nations spring +With more kindly blossoming. + +Perish—let there only be +Floating o'er thy hearthless sea +As the garment of thy sky +Clothes the world immortally. +One remembrance, more sublime +Than the tattered pall of time, +Which scarce hides thy visage wan;— +That a tempest-cleaving Swan +Of the songs of Albion. +Driven from his ancestral streams +By the might of evil dreams, +Found a nest in thee; and Ocean +Welcomed him with such emotion +That its joy grew his, and sprung +From his lips like music flung +O'er a mighty thunder-fit, +Chastening terror:—what though yet +Poesy's unfailing River, +Which through Albion winds forever +Lashing with melodious wave +Many a sacred Poet's grave, +Mourn its latest nursling fled? +What though thou with all thy dead +Scarce can for this fame repay +Aught thine own? oh, rather say +Though thy sins and slaveries foul +Overcloud a sunlike soul? +As the ghost of Homer clings +Round Scamander's wasting springs; +As divinest Shakespeare's might +Fills Avon and the world with light +Like omniscient power which he +Imaged 'mid mortality; +As the love from Petrarch's urn. +Yet amid yon hills doth burn. +A quenchless lamp by which the heart +Sees things unearthly;—so thou art, +Mighty spirit—so shall be +The City that did refuge thee. + +Lo, the sun floats up the sky +Like thought-winged Liberty. +Till the universal light +Seems to level plain and height; +From the sea a mist has spread, +And the beams of morn lie dead +On the towers of Venice now, +Like its glory long ago. +By the skirts of that gray cloud +Many-domed Padua proud +Stands, a peopled solitude, +'Mid the harvest-shining plain. +Where the peasant heaps his grain +In the garner of his foe, +And the milk-white oxen slow +With the purple vintage strain, +Heaped upon the creaking wain, +That the brutal Celt may swill +Drunken sleep with savage will; +And the sickle to the sword +Lies unchanged, though many a lord, +Like a weed whose shade is poison, +Overgrows this region's foison, +Sheaves of whom are ripe to come +To destruction's harvest-home: +Men must reap the things they sow, +Force from force must ever flow, +Or worse; but 'tis a bitter woe +That love or reason cannot change +The despot's rage, the slave's revenge. +Padua, thou within whose walls +Those mute guests at festivals, +Son and Mother, Death and Sin, +Played at dice for Ezzelin, +Till Death cried, "I win, I win!" +And Sin cursed to lose the wager, +But Death promised, to assuage her, +That he would petition for +Her to be made Vice-Emperor, +When the destined years were o'er, +Over all between the Po +And the eastern Alpine snow, +Under the mighty Austrian. +Sin smiled so as Sin only can, +And since that time, ay, long before, +Both have ruled from shore to shore,— +That incestuous pair, who follow +Tyrants as the sun the swallow, +As Repentance follows Crime, +And as changes follow Time. + +In thine halls the lamp of learning, +Padua, now no more is burning; +Like a meteor, whose wild way +Is lost over the grave of day, +It gleams betrayed and to betray: +Once remotest nations came +To adore that sacred flame, +When it lit not many a hearth +On this cold and gloomy earth: +Now new fires from antique light +Spring beneath the wide world's might; +But their spark lies dead in thee, +Trampled out by Tyranny. +As the Norway woodman quells, +In the depth of piny dells, +One light flame among the brakes, +While the boundless forest shakes, +And its mighty trunks are torn +By the fire thus lowly born: +The spark beneath his feet is dead, +He starts to see the flames it fed +Howling through the darkened sky +With a myriad tongues victoriously, +And sinks down in fear: so thou, +O Tyranny, beholdest now +Light around thee, and thou hearest +The loud flames ascend, and fearest: +Grovel on the earth; ay, hide +In the dust thy purple pride! + +Noon descends around me now: +'Tis the noon of autumn's glow, +When a soft and purple mist +Like a vaporous amethyst, +Or an air-dissolved star +Mingling light and fragrance, far +From the curved, horizon's bound +To the point of Heaven's profound, +Fills the overflowing sky; +And the plains that silent lie +Underneath, the leaves unsodden +Where the infant Frost has trodden +With his morning- winged feet, +Whose bright print is gleaming yet; +And the red and golden vines, +Piercing with their trellised lines +The rough, dark-skirted wilderness; +The dun and bladed grass no less, +Pointing from this hoary tower +In the windless air: the flower +Glimmering at my feet; the line +Of the olive-sandalled Apennine +In the south dimly islanded; +And the Alps, whose snows are spread +High between the clouds and sun; +And of living things each one; +And my spirit which so long +Darkened this swift stream of song,— +Interpenetrated lie +By the glory of the sky: +Be it love, light, harmony, +Odour, or the soul of all +Which from Heaven like dew doth fall, +Or the mind which feeds this verse +Peopling the lone universe. + +Noon descends, and after noon +Autumn's evening meets me soon, +Leading the infantine moon. +And that one star, which to her +Almost seems to minister +Half the crimson light she brings +From the sunset's radiant springs: +And the soft dreams of the morn +(Which like winged winds had borne +To that silent isle, which lies +Mid remembered agonies, +The frail bark of this lone being) +Pass, to other sufferers fleeing, +And its ancient pilot, Pain, +Sits beside the helm again. + +Other flowering isles must be +In the sea of Life and Agony: +Other spirits float and flee +O'er that gulf: even now, perhaps, +On some rock the wild wave wraps, +With folded wings they waiting sit +For my bark, to pilot it +To some calm and blooming cove, +Where for me, and those I love, +May a windless bower be built, +Far from passion, pain, and guilt, +In a dell mid lawny hills, +Which the wild sea-murmur fills, +And soft sunshine, and the sound +Of old forests echoing round. +And the light and smell divine +Of all flowers that breathe and shine: +We may live so happy there, +That the Spirits of the Air, +Envying us, may even entice +To our healing Paradise +The polluting multitude; +But their rage would be subdued +By that clime divine and calm, +And the winds whose wings rain balm +On the uplifted soul, and leaves +Under which the bright sea heaves; +While each breathless interval +In their whisperings musical +The inspired soul supplies +With its own deep melodies; +And, the love which heals all strife +Circling, like the breath of life, +All things in that sweet abode +With its own mild brotherhood, +They, not it, would change; and soon +Every sprite beneath the moon +Would repent its envy vain. +And the earth grow young again. diff --git a/poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/ode-to-liberty.txt b/poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/ode-to-liberty.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..502576a --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/ode-to-liberty.txt @@ -0,0 +1,321 @@ +A glorious people vibrated again +The lightning of the nations: Liberty +From heart to heart, from tower to tower, o'er Spain, +Scattering contagious fire into the sky, +Gleamed. My soul spurned the chains of its dismay, +And in the rapid plumes of song +Clothed itself, sublime and strong; +As a young eagle soars the morning clouds among, +Hovering inverse o'er its accustomed prey; +Till from its station in the Heaven of fame +The Spirit's whirlwind rapped it, and the ray +Of the remotest sphere of living flame +Which paves the void was from behind it flung. +As foam from a ship's swiftness, when there came +A voice out of the deep: I will record the same. + +II +The Sun and the serenest Moon sprang forth: +The burning stars of the abyss were hurled +Into the depths of Heaven. The daedal earth, +That island in the ocean of the world, +Hung in its cloud of all-sustaining air: +But this divinest universe +Was yet a chaos and a curse, +For thou wert not: but, power from worst producing worse, +The spirit of the beasts was kindled there, +And of the birds, and of the watery forms, +And there was war among them, and despair +Within them, raging without truce or terms: +The bosom of their violated nurse +Groaned, for beasts warred on beasts, and worms on worms, +And men on men; each heart was as a hell of storms. + +III +Man, the imperial shape, then multiplied +His generations under the pavilion +Of the Sun's throne: palace and pyramid, +Temple and prison, to many a swarming million +Were, as to mountain-wolves their raggèd caves. +This human living multitude +Was savage, cunning, blind, and rude, +For thou wert not; but o'er the populous solitude, +Like one fierce cloud over a waste of waves, +Hung Tyranny; beneath, sate deified +The sister-pest, congregator of slaves; +Into the shadow of her pinions wide +Anarchs and priests, who feed on gold and blood +Till with the stain their inmost souls are dyed, +Drove the astonished herds of men from every side. + +IV +The nodding promontories, and blue isles, +And cloud-like mountains, and dividuous waves +Of Greece, basked glorious in the open smiles +Of favouring Heaven: from their enchanted caves +Prophetic echoes flung dim melody. +On the unapprehensive wild +The vine, the corn, the olive mild, +Grew savage yet, to human use unreconciled; +And, like unfolded flowers beneath the sea, +Like the man's thought dark in the infant's brain, +Like aught that is which wraps what is to be, +Art's deathless dreams lay veiled by many a vein +Of Parian stone; and, yet a speechless child, +Verse murmured, and Philosophy did strain +Her lidless eyes for thee; when o'er the Aegean main + +V +Athens arose: a city such as vision +Builds from the purple crags and silver towers +Of battlemented cloud, as in derision +Of kingliest masonry: the ocean-floors +Pave it; the evening sky pavilions it; +Its portals are inhabited +By thunder-zoned winds, each head +Within its cloudy wings with sun-fire garlanded,— +A divine work! Athens, diviner yet, +Gleamed with its crest of columns, on the will +Of man, as on a mount of diamond, set; +For thou wert, and thine all-creative skill +Peopled, with forms that mock the eternal dead +In marble immortality, that hill +Which was thine earliest throne and latest oracle. + +VI +Within the surface of Time's fleeting river +Its wrinkled image lies, as then it lay +Immovably unquiet, and for ever +It trembles, but it cannot pass away! +The voices of thy bards and sages thunder +With an earth-awakening blast +Through the caverns of the past: +(Religion veils her eyes; Oppression shrinks aghast:) +A wingèd sound of joy, and love, and wonder, +Which soars where Expectation never flew, +Rending the veil of space and time asunder! +One ocean feeds the clouds, and streams, and dew; +One Sun illumines Heaven; one Spirit vast +With life and love makes chaos ever new, +As Athens doth the world with thy delight renew. + +VII +Then Rome was, and from thy deep bosom fairest, +Like a wolf-cub from a Cadmaean Maenad, +She drew the milk of greatness, though thy dearest +From that Elysian food was yet unweaned: +And many a deed of terrible uprightness +By thy sweet love was sanctified; +And in thy smile, and by thy side, +Saintly Camillus lived, and firm Atilius died. +But when tears stained thy robe of vestal whiteness, +And gold profaned thy Capitolian throne, +Thou didst desert, with spirit-winged lightness, +The senate of the tyrants: they sunk prone +Slaves of one tyrant: Palatinus signed +Faint echoes of Ionian song; that tone +Thou didst delay to hear, lamenting to disown + +VIII +From what Hyrcanian glen or frozen hill, +Or piny promontory of the Arctic main, +Or utmost islet inaccessible. +Didst thou lament the ruin of thy reign, +Teaching the woods and waves, and desert rocks, +And every Naiad's ice-cold urn, +To talk in echoes sad and stern +Of that sublimest lore which man had dared unlearn? +For neither didst thou watch the wizard flocks +Of the Scald's dreams, nor haunt the Druid's sleep. +What if the tears rained through thy shattered locks +Were quickly dried? for thou didst groan, not weep, +When from its sea of death, to kill and burn, +The Galilean serpent forth did creep, +And made thy world an undistinguishable heap. + +IX +A thousand years the Earth cried. 'Where art thou?' +And then the shadow of thy coming fell +On Saxon Alfred's olive-cinctured brow: +And many a warrior-peopled citadel. +Like rocks which fire lifts out of the flat deep, +Arose in sacred Italy, +Frowning o'er the tempestuous sea +Of kings, and priests, and slaves, in tower-crowned majesty; +That multitudinous anarchy did sweep +And burst around their walls, like idle foam, +Whilst from the human spirit's deepest deep +Strange melody with love and awe struck dumb +Dissonant arms; and Art, which cannot die, +With divine wand traced on our earthly home +Fit imagery to pave Heaven's everlasting dome. + +X +Thou huntress swifter than the Moon! thou terror +Of the world's wolves! thou bearer of the quiver, +Whose sunlike shafts pierce tempest-winged Error, +As light may pierce the clouds when they dissever +In the calm regions of the orient day! +Luther caught thy wakening glance; +Like lightning, from his leaden lance +Reflected, it dissolved the visions of the trance +In which, as in a tomb, the nations lay; +And England's prophets hailed thee as their queen, +In songs whose music cannot pass away, +Though it must flow forever: not unseen +Before the spirit-sighted countenance +Of Milton didst thou pass, from the sad scene +Beyond whose night he saw, with a dejected mien. + +XI +The eager hours and unreluctant years +As on a dawn-illumined mountain stood. +Trampling to silence their loud hopes and fears, +Darkening each other with their multitude, +And cried aloud, 'Liberty!' Indignation +Answered Pity from her cave; +Death grew pale within the grave, +And Desolation howled to the destroyer, Save! +When like Heaven's Sun girt by the exhalation +Of its own glorious light, thou didst arise, +Chasing thy foes from nation unto nation +Like shadows: as if day had cloven the skies +At dreaming midnight o'er the western wave, +Men started, staggering with a glad surprise, +Under the lightnings of thine unfamiliar eyes. + +XII +Thou Heaven of earth! what spells could pall thee then +In ominous eclipse? a thousand years +Bred from the slime of deep Oppression's den. +Dyed all thy liquid light with blood and tears. +Till thy sweet stars could weep the stain away; +How like Bacchanals of blood +Round France, the ghastly vintage, stood +Destruction's sceptred slaves, and Folly's mitred brood! +When one, like them, but mightier far than they. +The Anarch of thine own bewildered powers, +Rose: armies mingled in obscure array, +Like clouds with clouds, darkening the sacred bowers +Of serene Heaven. He, by the past pursued, +Rests with those dead, but unforgotten hours, +Whose ghosts scare victor kings in their ancestral towers. + +XIII +England yet sleeps: was she not called of old? +Spain calls her now, as with its thrilling thunder +Vesuvius wakens Aetna, and the cold +Snow-crags by its reply are cloven in sunder: +O'er the lit waves every Aeolian isle +From Pithecusa to Pelorus +Howls, and leaps, and glares in chorus: +They cry, 'Be dim; ye lamps of Heaven suspended o'er us!' +Her chains are threads of gold, she need but smile +And they dissolve; but Spain's were links of steel, +Till bit to dust by virtue's keenest file. +Twins of a single destiny! appeal +To the eternal years enthroned before us +In the dim West: impress us from a seal, +All ye have thought and done! Time cannot dare conceal. + +XIV +Tomb of Arminius! render up thy dead +Till, like a standard from a watch-tower's staff, +His soul may stream over the tyrant's head; +Thy victory shall be his epitaph, +Wild Bacchanal of truth's mysterious wine, +King-deluded Germany, +His dead spirit lives in thee. +Why do we fear or hope? thou art already free! +And thou, lost Paradise of this divine +And glorious world! thou flowery wilderness! +Thou island of eternity! thou shrine +Where Desolation, clothed with loveliness, +Worships the thing thou wert! O Italy, +Gather thy blood into thy heart; repress +The beasts who make their dens thy sacred palaces. + +XV +Oh, that the free would stamp the impious name +Of King into the dust! or write it there, +So that this blot upon the page of fame +Were as a serpent's path, which the light air +Erases, and the flat sands close behind! +Ye the oracle have heard: +Lift the victory-flashing sword. +And cut the snaky knots of this foul gordian word, +Which, weak itself as stubble, yet can bind +Into a mass, irrefragably firm, +The axes and the rods which awe mankind; +The sound has poison in it, 'tis the sperm +Of what makes Life foul, cankerous, and abhorred; +Disdain not thou, at thine appointed term, +To set thine armed heel on this reluctant worm. + +XVI +Oh, that the wise from their bright minds would kindle +Such lamps within the dome of this dim world, +That the pale name of Priest might shrink and dwindle +Into the hell from which it first was hurled, +A scoff of impious pride from fiends impure; +Till human thoughts might kneel alone, +Each before the judgement-throne +Of its own aweless soul, or of the Power unknown! +Oh. that the words which make the thoughts obscure +From which they spring, as clouds of glimmering dew +From a white lake blot Heaven's blue portraiture, +Were stripped of their thin masks and various hue +And frowns and smiles and splendours not their own, +Till in the nakedness of false and true +They stand before their Lord, each to receive its due! + +XVII +He who taught man to vanquish whatsoever +Can be between the cradle and the grave +Crowned him the King of Life. Oh, vain endeavour! +If on his own high will, a willing slave, +He has enthroned the oppression and the oppressor +What if earth can clothe and feed +Amplest millions at their need, +And power in thought be as the tree within the seed? +Or what if Art, an ardent intercessor, +Driving on fiery wings to Nature's throne, +Checks the great mother stooping to caress her, +And cries: 'Give me, thy child, dominion +Over all height and depth'? if Life can breed +New wants, and wealth from those who toil and groan, +Rend of thy gifts and hers a thousandfold for one! + +XVIII +Come thou, but lead out of the inmost cave +Of man's deep spirit, as the morning-star +Beckons the Sun from the Eoan wave, +Wisdom. I hear the pennons of her car +Self-moving, like cloud charioted by flame; +Comes she not, and come ye not, +Rulers of eternal thought, +To judge, with solemn truth, life's ill-apportioned lot? +Blind Love, and equal Justice, and the Fame +Of what has been, the Hope of what will be? +O Liberty! if such could be thy name +Wert thou disjoined from these, or they from thee: +If thine or theirs were treasures to be bought +By blood or tears, have not the wise and free +Wept tears, and blood like tears?— The solemn harmony + +XIX +Paused, and the Spirit of that mighty singing +To its abyss was suddenly withdrawn; +Then, as a wild swan, when sublimely winging +Its path athwart the thunder-smoke of dawn, +Sinks headlong through the aëreal golden light +On the heavy-sounding plain, +When the bolt has pierced its brain; +As summer clouds dissolve, unburthened of their rain; +As a far taper fades with fading night. +As a brief insect dies with dying day,— +My song, its pinions disarrayed of might, +Drooped; o'er it closed the echoes far away +Of the great voice which did its flight sustain, +As waves which lately paved his watery way +Hiss round a drowner's head in their tempestuous play. diff --git a/poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/one-word-is-too-often-profaned.txt b/poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/one-word-is-too-often-profaned.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c9eee25 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/percy-bysshe-shelley/one-word-is-too-often-profaned.txt @@ -0,0 +1,18 @@ +One word is too often profaned +For me to profane it, +One feeling too falsely disdained +For thee to disdain it; +One hope is too like despair +For prudence to smother, +And pity from thee more dear +Than that from another. + +II +I can give not what men call love, +But wilt thou accept not +The worship the heart lifts above +And the Heavens reject not,— +The desire of the moth for the star, +Of the night for the morrow, +The devotion to something afar +From the sphere of our sorrow? diff --git a/poems/robert-browning/a-womans-last-word.txt b/poems/robert-browning/a-womans-last-word.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c72291c --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/robert-browning/a-womans-last-word.txt @@ -0,0 +1,49 @@ +Let's contend no more, Love, +Strive nor weep— +All be as before, Love, +—Only sleep! + +What so wild as words are? +I and thou +In debate, as birds are, +Hawk on bough! + +See the creature stalking +While we speak— +Hush and hide the talking, +Cheek on cheek! + +What so false as truth is, +False to thee? +Where the serpent's tooth is, +Shun the tree— + +Where the apple reddens +Never pry— +Lest we lose our Edens, +Eve and I! + +Be a god and hold me +With a charm— +Be a man and fold me +With thine arm! + +Teach me, only teach, Love! +As I ought +I will speak thy speech, Love, +Think thy thought— + +Meet, if thou require it, +Both demands, +Laying flesh and spirit +In thy hands! + +That shall be to-morrow +Not to-night: +I must bury sorrow +Out of sight. + +—Must a little weep, Love, +—Foolish me! +And so fall asleep, Love, +Loved by thee. diff --git a/poems/robert-browning/prospice.txt b/poems/robert-browning/prospice.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..46d2d86 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/robert-browning/prospice.txt @@ -0,0 +1,28 @@ +Fear death?—to feel the fog in my throat, +The mist in my face, +When the snows begin, and the blasts denote +I am nearing the place, +The power of the night, the press of the storm, +The post of the foe; +Where he stands, the Arch Fear in a visible form, +Yet the strong man must go: +For the journey is done and the summit attained, +And the barriers fall, +Though a battle's to fight ere a guerdon be gained, +The reward of it all. +I was ever a fighter, so—one fight more, +The best and the last! +I would hate that death bandaged my eyes, and forebore, +And bade me creep past. +No! let me taste the whole of it, fare like my peers +The heroes of old, +Bear the brunt, in a minute pay glad life's arrears +Of pain, darkness, and cold. +For sudden the worst turns the best to the brave, +The black minute's at end, +And the elements' rage, the fiend-voices that rave, +Shall dwindle, shall blend, +Shall change, shall become first a peace, then a joy, +Then a light, then thy breast, +O thou soul of my soul! I shall clasp thee again, +And with God be the rest! diff --git a/poems/robert-browning/soliloquy-of-the-spanish-cloister.txt b/poems/robert-browning/soliloquy-of-the-spanish-cloister.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..1171ad1 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/robert-browning/soliloquy-of-the-spanish-cloister.txt @@ -0,0 +1,88 @@ +Gr-r-r—there go, my heart’s abhorrence! +Water your damned flower-pots, do! +If hate killed men, Brother Lawrence, +God’s blood, would not mine kill you! +What? your myrtle-bush wants trimming? +Oh, that rose has prior claims— +Needs its leaden vase filled brimming? +Hell dry you up with its flames! + +ii. +At the meal we sit together: +Salve tibi! I must hear +Wise talk of the kind of weather +Sort of season, time of year: +Not a plenteous cork-crop: scarcely +Dare we hope oak-galls, I doubt: +What's the Latin name for "parsley"? +What's the Greek name for Swine's Snout? + +iii. +Phew! We'll have our platter burnished, +Laid with care on our own shelf! +With a fire-new spoon we're furnished, +And a goblet for ourself, +Rinsed like something sacrificial +Ere 'tis fit to touch our chaps— +Marked with L. for our initial! +(He-he! There his lily snaps!) + +iv. +Saint, forsooth! While brown Dolores +Squats outside the Convent bank, +With Sanchicha, telling stories, +Steeping tresses in the tank, +Blue-black, lustrous, thick like horsehairs +—Can't I see his dead eye glow +Bright as 'twere a Barbary corsair's? +That is, if he'd let it show. + +v. +When he finishes refection, +Knife and fork across he lays +Never, to my recollection, +As do I, in Jesu's praise. +I, the Trinity illustrate, +Drinking watered orange-pulp; +In three sips the Arian frustrate; +While he drains his at one gulp! + +vi. +Oh, those melons! If he's able +We're to have a feast; so nice! +One goes to the Abbot's table, +All of us get each a slice. +How go on your flowers? None double? +Not one fruit-sort can you spy? +Strange!—And I, too, at such trouble, +Keep 'em close-nipped on the sly! + +vii. +There's a great text in Galatians, +Once you trip on it, entails +Twenty-nine distinct damnations, +One sure, if another fails. +If I trip him just a-dying, +Sure of Heaven as sure can be, +Spin him round and send him flying +Off to Hell a Manichee? + +viii. +Or, my scrofulous French novel, +On grey paper with blunt type! +Simply glance at it, you grovel +Hand and foot in Belial's gripe. +If I double down its pages +At the woeful sixteenth print, +When he gathers his greengages, +Ope a sieve and slip it in't? + +ix. +Or, the Devil!—one might venture +Pledge one's soul yet slily leave +Such a flaw in the indenture +As he'd miss till, past retrieve, +Blasted lay that rose-acacia +We're so proud of! Hy, Zy, Hine . . . +St, there's Vespers! Plena gratiâ +Ave, Virgo! Gr-r-r—you swine! diff --git a/poems/robert-browning/the-lost-mistress.txt b/poems/robert-browning/the-lost-mistress.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f7f9183 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/robert-browning/the-lost-mistress.txt @@ -0,0 +1,28 @@ +All's over, then—does truth sound bitter +As one at first believes? +Hark, 'tis the sparrows' good-night twitter +About your cottage eaves. + +II. +And the leaf-buds on the vine are woolly, +I noticed that to-day; +One day more bursts them open fully +—You know the red turns gray. + +III. +To-morrow we meet the same then, dearest? +May I take your hand in mine? +Mere friends are we,—well, friends the merest +Keep much that I'll resign: + +IV. +For tho' no glance of the eyes so black +But I keep with heart's endeavour,— +If you only wish the snowdrops back +That shall stay in my soul for ever!— + +V. +—Yet I will but say what mere friends say, +Or only a thought stronger; +I will hold your hand but as long as all may, +Or so very little longer! diff --git a/poems/robert-browning/the-pied-piper-of-hamelin.txt b/poems/robert-browning/the-pied-piper-of-hamelin.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d6e1060 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/robert-browning/the-pied-piper-of-hamelin.txt @@ -0,0 +1,325 @@ +Hamelin Town's in Brunswick, +By famous Hanover city; +The river Weser, deep and wide, +Washes its wall on the southern side; +A pleasanter spot you never spied; +But when begins my ditty, +Almost five hundred years ago, +To see the townsfolk suffer so +From vermin, 'twas a pity. + +II. +Rats! +They fought the dogs and killed the cats, +And bit the babies in the cradles, +And ate the cheeses out of the vats, +And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles, +Split open the kegs of salted sprats, +Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, +And even spoiled the women's chats, +By drowning their speaking +With shrieking and squeaking +In fifty different sharps and flats. + +III. +At last the people in a body +To the town Hall came flocking: +'Tis clear, cried they, our mayor's a noddy; +And as for our Corporation—shocking +To think we buy gowns lined with ermine +For dolts that can't or won't determine +What's like to rid us of our vermin! +Rouse up, Sirs! Give your brains a racking +To find the remedy we're lacking, +Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing! +At this the Mayor and Corporation +Quaked with a mighty consternation. + +IV. +An hour they sate in council; +At length the Mayor broke silence: +For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell; +I wish I were a mile hence! +It's easy to bid one rack one's brain— +I'm sure my poor head aches again +I've scratched it so, and all in vain. +Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap! +Just as he said this, what should hap +At the chamber door but a gentle tap? +Bless us, cried the Mayor, what's that? +(With the Corporation as he sate, +Looking little though wondrous fat) +Only a scraping of shoes on the mat? +Anything like the sound of a rat +Makes my heart go pit-a-pat! + +V. +Come in!—the Mayor cried, looking bigger: +And in did come the strangest figure! +His queer long coat from heel to head +Was half of yellow and half of red; +And he himself was tall and thin, +With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin, +And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin, +No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin, +But lips where smiles went out and in— +There was no guessing his kith and kin! +And nobody could enough admire +The tall man and his quaint attire: +Quoth one: It's as my great-grandsire, +Starting up at the Trump of Doom's tone, +Had walked this way from his painted tomb-stone! + +VI. +He advanced to the council-table: +And, Please your honours, said he, I'm able, +By means of a secret charm, to draw +All creatures living beneath the sun, +That creep, or swim, or fly, or run, +After me so as you never saw! +And I chiefly use my charm +On creatures that do people harm, +The mole, and toad, and newt, and viper; +And people call me the Pied Piper. +(And here they noticed round his neck +A scarf of red and yellow stripe, +To match with his coat of the self same cheque; +And at the scarf's end hung a pipe; +And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying +As if impatient to be playing +Upon this pipe, as low it dangled +Over his vesture so old-fangled.) +Yet, said he, poor piper as I am, +In Tartary I freed the Cham, +Last June, from his huge swarms of gnats; +I eased in Asia the Nizam +Of a monstrous brood of vampyre-bats: +And, as for what your brain bewilders, +If I can rid your town of rats +Will you give me a thousand guilders? +One? fifty thousand!—was the exclamation +Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation. + +VII. +Into the street the Piper stept, +Smiling first a little smile, +As if he knew what magic slept +In his quiet pipe the while; +Then, like a musical adept, +To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled, +And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled +Like a candle flame where salt is sprinkled; +And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered, +You heard as if an army muttered; +And the muttering grew to a grumbling; +And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling; +And out of the houses the rats came tumbling. +Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, +Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats, +Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, +Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, +Cocking tails and pricking whiskers, +Families by tens and dozens, +Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives— +Followed the Piper for their lives. +From street to street he piped advancing, +And step for step they followed dancing, +Until they came to the river Weser +Wherein all plunged and perished +—Save one who, stout as Julius Cæsar, +Swam across and lived to carry +(As he the manuscript he cherished) +To Rat-land home his commentary, +Which was, At the first shrill notes of the pipe, +I heard a sound as of scraping tripe, +And putting apples, wondrous ripe, +Into a cider-press's gripe: +And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards, +And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards, +And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks, +And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks! +And it seemed as if a voice +(Sweeter than by harp or by psaltery +Is breathed) called out, Oh rats, rejoice! +The world is grown to one vast drysaltery! +So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, +Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon! +And just as a bulky sugar puncheon, +Ready staved, like a great sun shone +Glorious scarce an inch before me, +Just as methought it said, Come, bore me! +—I found the Weser rolling o'er me. + +VIII. +You should have heard the Hamelin people +Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple; +Go, cried the Mayor, and get long poles! +Poke out the nests and block up the holes! +Consult with carpenters and builders, +And leave in our town not even a trace +Of the rats!—when suddenly up the face +Of the Piper perked in the market-place, +With a, First, if you please, my thousand guilders! + +IX. +A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue; +So did the Corporation too. +For council dinners made rare havock +With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock; +And half the money would replenish +Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish; +To pay this sum to a wandering fellow +With a gipsy coat of red and yellow! +Beside, quoth the Mayor with a knowing wink, +Our business was done at the river's brink; +We saw with our eyes the vermin sink, +And what's dead can't come to life, I think. +So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink +From the duty of giving you something for drink, +And a matter of money to put in your poke; +But, as for the guilders, what we spoke +Of them, as you very well know, was in joke. +Beside, our losses have made us thrifty; +A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty! + +X. +The Piper's face fell, and he cried, +No trifling! I can't wait, beside! +I've promised to visit by dinner time +Bagdat, and accept the prime +Of the Head-Cook's pottage, all he's rich in, +For having left, in the Caliph's kitchen, +Of a nest of scorpions no survivor: +With him I proved no bargain driver, +With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver! +And folks who put me in a passion +May find me pipe after another fashion." + +XI. +"How?" cried the mayor, "d'ye think I brook +Being worse treated than a cook? +Insulted by a lazy ribald +With idle pipe and vesture piebald? +You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst, +Blow your pipe there till you burst!" + +XII. +Once more he stepped into the street +And to his lips again +Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane; +And ere he blew three notes (such sweet +Soft notes as yet musician's cunning +Never gave the enraptured air) +There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling +Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling, +Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering +Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering. +And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering, +Out came the children running. +All the little boys and girls, +With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, +And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, +Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after +The wonderful music with shouting and laughter. + +XIII. +The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood +As if they were changed into blocks of wood, +Unable to move a step, or cry +To the children merrily skipping by— +Could only follow with the eye +That joyous crowd at the Piper's back. +But how the Mayor was on the rack, +And the wretched Council's bosoms beat, +As the Piper turned from the High Street +To where the Weser rolled its waters +Right in the way of their sons and daughters! +However he turned from South to West, +And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed, +And after him the children pressed; +Great was the joy in every breast. +He never can cross that mighty top! +He's forced to let the piping drop, +And we shall see our children stop! +When, lo, as they reached the mountain-side, +A wonderous portal opened wide, +As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed; +And the Piper advanced and the children followed, +And when all were in to the very last, +The door in the mountain-side shut fast. +Did I say, all? No! One was lame, +And could not dance the whole of the way; +And in after years, if you would blame +His sadness, he was used to say,— +It's dull in our town since my playmates left! +I can't forget that I'm bereft +Of all the pleasant sights they see, +Which the Piper also promised me. +For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, +Joining the town and just at hand, +Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew, +And flowers put forth a fairer hue, +And everything was strange and new; +The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here, +And their dogs outrun our fallow deer, +And honey-bees had lost their stings, +And horses were born with eagles' wings: +And just as I became assured +My lame foot would be speedily cured, +The music stopped and I stood still, +And found myself outside the hill, +Left alone against my will, +To go now limping as before, +And never hear of that country more! + +XIV. +Alas, alas, for Hamelin! +There came into many a burgher's pate +A text which says that heaven's gate +Opes to the rich at as easy rate +As the needle's eye takes a camel in! +The mayor sent East, West, North, and South, +To offer the Piper, by word of mouth, +Wherever it was men's lot to find him, +Silver and gold to his heart's content, +If he'd only return the way he went, +And bring the children behind him. +But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavour, +And piper and dancers were gone forever, +They made a decree that lawyers never +Should think their records dated duly +If, after the day of the month and year, +These words did not as well appear, +"And so long after what happened here +On the Twenty-second of July, +Thirteen hundred and seventy-six:" +And the better in memory to fix +The place of the children's last retreat, +They called it the Pied Piper's Street,— +Where any one playing on pipe or tabor +Was sure for the future to lose his labour. +Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern +To shock with mirth a street so solemn; +But opposite the place of the cavern +They wrote the story on a column, +And on the great church-window painted +The same, to make the world acquainted +How their children were stolen away, +And there it stands to this very day. +And I must not omit to say +That in Transylvania there's a tribe +Of alien people who ascribe +The outlandish ways and dress +On which their neighbours lay such stress, +To their fathers and mothers having risen +Out of some subterraneous prison +Into which they were trepanned +Long time ago in a mighty band +Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land, +But how or why they don't understand. + +XV. +So, Willy, let me and you be wipers +Of scores out with all men—especially pipers: +And whether they rid us from rats or from mice, +If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise. diff --git a/poems/walt-whitman/i-hear-it-was-charged-against-me.txt b/poems/walt-whitman/i-hear-it-was-charged-against-me.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b2f5dd4 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/walt-whitman/i-hear-it-was-charged-against-me.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10 @@ +I hear it was charged against me that I sought to destroy institutions, + But really I am neither for nor against institutions, + (What indeed have I in common with them? or what with the + destruction of them?) + Only I will establish in the Mannahatta and in every city of these + States inland and seaboard, + And in the fields and woods, and above every keel little or large + that dents the water, + Without edifices or rules or trustees or any argument, + The institution of the dear love of comrades. diff --git a/poems/walt-whitman/miracles.txt b/poems/walt-whitman/miracles.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..04560af --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/walt-whitman/miracles.txt @@ -0,0 +1,27 @@ +Why, who makes much of a miracle? + As to me I know of nothing else but miracles, + Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, + Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky, + Or wade with naked feet along the beach just in the edge of the water, + Or stand under trees in the woods, + Or talk by day with any one I love, or sleep in the bed at night + with any one I love, + Or sit at table at dinner with the rest, + Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car, + Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive of a summer forenoon, + Or animals feeding in the fields, + Or birds, or the wonderfulness of insects in the air, + Or the wonderfulness of the sundown, or of stars shining so quiet + and bright, + Or the exquisite delicate thin curve of the new moon in spring; + These with the rest, one and all, are to me miracles, + The whole referring, yet each distinct and in its place. + + To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle, + Every cubic inch of space is a miracle, + Every square yard of the surface of the earth is spread with the same, + Every foot of the interior swarms with the same. + To me the sea is a continual miracle, + The fishes that swim--the rocks--the motion of the waves--the + ships with men in them, + What stranger miracles are there? diff --git a/poems/walt-whitman/o-you-whom-i-often-and-silently-come.txt b/poems/walt-whitman/o-you-whom-i-often-and-silently-come.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..378b891 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/walt-whitman/o-you-whom-i-often-and-silently-come.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +O you whom I often and silently come where you are that I may be with you, + As I walk by your side or sit near, or remain in the same room with you, + Little you know the subtle electric fire that for your sake is + playing within me. diff --git a/poems/walt-whitman/to-a-stranger.txt b/poems/walt-whitman/to-a-stranger.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d99d08e --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/walt-whitman/to-a-stranger.txt @@ -0,0 +1,15 @@ +Passing stranger! you do not know how longingly I look upon you, + You must be he I was seeking, or she I was seeking, (it comes to me + as of a dream,) + I have somewhere surely lived a life of joy with you, + All is recall’d as we flit by each other, fluid, affectionate, + chaste, matured, + You grew up with me, were a boy with me or a girl with me, + I ate with you and slept with you, your body has become not yours + only nor left my body mine only, + You give me the pleasure of your eyes, face, flesh, as we pass, you + take of my beard, breast, hands, in return, + I am not to speak to you, I am to think of you when I sit alone or + wake at night alone, + I am to wait, I do not doubt I am to meet you again, + I am to see to it that I do not lose you. diff --git a/poems/walt-whitman/when-i-read-the-book.txt b/poems/walt-whitman/when-i-read-the-book.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e641bc7 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/walt-whitman/when-i-read-the-book.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7 @@ +When I read the book, the biography famous, + And is this then (said I) what the author calls a man’s life? + And so will some one when I am dead and gone write my life? + (As if any man really knew aught of my life, + Why even I myself I often think know little or nothing of my real life, + Only a few hints, a few diffused faint clews and indirections + I seek for my own use to trace out here.) diff --git a/poems/william-blake/ah-sunflower.txt b/poems/william-blake/ah-sunflower.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f3dedfc --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/william-blake/ah-sunflower.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9 @@ +Ah, sunflower, weary of time, + Who countest the steps of the sun; +Seeking after that sweet golden clime + Where the traveller’s journey is done; + +Where the Youth pined away with desire, + And the pale virgin shrouded in snow, +Arise from their graves, and aspire + Where my Sunflower wishes to go! diff --git a/poems/william-blake/night.txt b/poems/william-blake/night.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9c20d0b --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/william-blake/night.txt @@ -0,0 +1,53 @@ +The sun descending in the West, +The evening star does shine; +The birds are silent in their nest, +And I must seek for mine. +The moon, like a flower +In heaven’s high bower, +With silent delight, +Sits and smiles on the night. + +Farewell, green fields and happy groves, +Where flocks have took delight, +Where lambs have nibbled, silent moves +The feet of angels bright; +Unseen, they pour blessing, +And joy without ceasing, +On each bud and blossom, +And each sleeping bosom. + +They look in every thoughtless nest +Where birds are covered warm; +They visit caves of every beast, +To keep them all from harm: +If they see any weeping +That should have been sleeping, +They pour sleep on their head, +And sit down by their bed. + +When wolves and tigers howl for prey, +They pitying stand and weep; +Seeking to drive their thirst away, +And keep them from the sheep. +But, if they rush dreadful, +The angels, most heedful, +Receive each mild spirit, +New worlds to inherit. + +And there the lion’s ruddy eyes +Shall flow with tears of gold: +And pitying the tender cries, +And walking round the fold: +Saying: ‘Wrath by His meekness, +And, by His health, sickness, +Is driven away +From our immortal day. + +‘And now beside thee, bleating lamb, +I can lie down and sleep, +Or think on Him who bore thy name, +Graze after thee, and weep. +For, washed in life’s river, +My bright mane for ever +Shall shine like the gold, +As I guard o’er the fold. diff --git a/poems/william-blake/the-echoing-green.txt b/poems/william-blake/the-echoing-green.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..2046464 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/william-blake/the-echoing-green.txt @@ -0,0 +1,32 @@ +The sun does arise, +And make happy the skies; +The merry bells ring +To welcome the Spring; +The skylark and thrush, +The birds of the bush, +Sing louder around +To the bells’ cheerful sound; +While our sports shall be seen +On the echoing green. + +Old John, with white hair, +Does laugh away care, +Sitting under the oak, +Among the old folk. +They laugh at our play, +And soon they all say, +‘Such, such were the joys +When we all—girls and boys— +In our youth-time were seen +On the echoing green.’ + +Till the little ones, weary, +No more can be merry: +The sun does descend, +And our sports have an end. +Round the laps of their mothers +Many sisters and brothers, +Like birds in their nest, +Are ready for rest, +And sport no more seen +On the darkening green. diff --git a/poems/william-blake/the-fly.txt b/poems/william-blake/the-fly.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f476589 --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/william-blake/the-fly.txt @@ -0,0 +1,24 @@ +Little Fly, + Thy summer’s play +My thoughtless hand + Has brushed away. + +Am not I + A fly like thee? +Or art not thou + A man like me? + +For I dance, + And drink, and sing, +Till some blind hand + Shall brush my wing. + +If thought is life + And strength and breath, +And the want + Of thought is death; + +Then am I + A happy fly. +If I live, + Or if I die. diff --git a/poems/william-blake/the-shepherd.txt b/poems/william-blake/the-shepherd.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..01d64aa --- /dev/null +++ b/poems/william-blake/the-shepherd.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9 @@ +How sweet is the shepherd’s sweet lot! +From the morn to the evening he strays; +He shall follow his sheep all the day, +And his tongue shall be fillèd with praise. + +For he hears the lambs’ innocent call, +And he hears the ewes’ tender reply; +He is watchful while they are in peace, +For they know when their shepherd is nigh. diff --git a/scripts/ingest-gutenberg-longfellow-depth.mjs b/scripts/ingest-gutenberg-longfellow-depth.mjs index 4689220..98e5349 100644 --- a/scripts/ingest-gutenberg-longfellow-depth.mjs +++ b/scripts/ingest-gutenberg-longfellow-depth.mjs @@ -48,6 +48,36 @@ const EXTRACT_SPECS = [ start: "THE TIDE RISES, THE TIDE FALLS", end: "SONNETS", }, + { + slug: "the-arsenal-at-springfield", + title: "The Arsenal at Springfield", + start: "THE ARSENAL AT SPRINGFIELD", + end: "NUREMBERG", + }, + { + slug: "the-bridge", + title: "The Bridge", + start: "THE BRIDGE", + end: "TO THE DRIVING CLOUD", + }, + { + slug: "the-old-clock-on-the-stairs", + title: "The Old Clock on the Stairs", + start: "THE OLD CLOCK ON THE STAIRS", + end: "THE ARROW AND THE SONG", + }, + { + slug: "the-builders", + title: "The Builders", + start: "THE BUILDERS", + end: "SAND OF THE DESERT IN AN HOUR-GLASS", + }, + { + slug: "the-cross-of-snow", + title: "The Cross of Snow", + start: "THE CROSS OF SNOW", + end: "BIRDS OF PASSAGE", + }, ]; function normalizeText(raw) { diff --git a/scripts/ingest-gutenberg-poe-depth.mjs b/scripts/ingest-gutenberg-poe-depth.mjs new file mode 100644 index 0000000..22ebddd --- /dev/null +++ b/scripts/ingest-gutenberg-poe-depth.mjs @@ -0,0 +1,130 @@ +import fs from "node:fs/promises"; +import path from "node:path"; +import yaml from "../site/node_modules/js-yaml/dist/js-yaml.mjs"; + +const SOURCE = { + author: "Edgar Allan Poe", + author_slug: "edgar-allan-poe", + century: 19, + source_ebook: "10031", + collection_title: "The Raven and Other Poems", +}; + +const EXTRACT_SPECS = [ + { + slug: "ulalume", + title: "Ulalume", + published_year: 1847, + start: "ULALUME.", + end: "TO HELEN.", + }, + { + slug: "to-one-in-paradise", + title: "To One in Paradise", + published_year: 1834, + start: "TO ONE IN PARADISE,", + end: "THE COLISEUM.", + }, + { + slug: "the-haunted-palace", + title: "The Haunted Palace", + published_year: 1839, + start: "THE HAUNTED PALACE.", + end: "THE CONQUEROR WORM.", + }, + { + slug: "the-valley-of-unrest", + title: "The Valley of Unrest", + published_year: 1831, + start: "THE VALLEY OF UNREST.", + end: "ISRAFEL. [1]", + }, + { + slug: "to-zante", + title: "To Zante", + published_year: 1837, + start: "TO ZANTE.", + end: "HYMN.", + }, +]; + +function normalizeText(raw) { + return raw.replace(/\r\n?/g, "\n").replace(/[ \t]+$/gm, ""); +} + +function stripBoilerplate(raw) { + const start = raw.match(/\*\*\*\s*START OF[\s\S]*?\*\*\*/i); + const end = raw.match(/\*\*\*\s*END OF[\s\S]*?\*\*\*/i); + const startIdx = start ? start.index + start[0].length : 0; + const endIdx = end ? end.index : raw.length; + return raw.slice(startIdx, endIdx).trim(); +} + +function extractPoem(text, { start, end, title }) { + const startIndex = text.indexOf(start); + if (startIndex === -1) throw new Error(`Start marker not found for ${title}`); + + const fromStart = text.slice(startIndex + start.length).trimStart(); + const endIndex = fromStart.indexOf(end); + if (endIndex === -1) throw new Error(`End marker not found for ${title}`); + + return fromStart + .slice(0, endIndex) + .replace(/\n{3,}/g, "\n\n") + .trim(); +} + +function buildMeta(spec) { + return yaml.dump( + { + id: `${SOURCE.author_slug}/${spec.slug}`, + slug: spec.slug, + author: SOURCE.author, + author_slug: SOURCE.author_slug, + title: spec.title, + century: SOURCE.century, + text_path: `poems/${SOURCE.author_slug}/${spec.slug}.txt`, + text_in_repo: true, + source_label: "Project Gutenberg", + source_url: `https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/${SOURCE.source_ebook}`, + public_domain_rationale: + `Public domain in the United States: first published ${spec.published_year} ` + + `(pre-1929); text via Project Gutenberg eBook #${SOURCE.source_ebook}.`, + collection_title: SOURCE.collection_title, + collection_source_url: `https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/${SOURCE.source_ebook}`, + }, + { lineWidth: 1000 }, + ); +} + +async function main() { + const poemsDir = path.join("poems", SOURCE.author_slug); + const metaDir = path.join("meta", SOURCE.author_slug); + await fs.mkdir(poemsDir, { recursive: true }); + await fs.mkdir(metaDir, { recursive: true }); + + const response = await fetch(`https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/${SOURCE.source_ebook}.txt.utf-8`, { + redirect: "follow", + }); + if (!response.ok) { + throw new Error(`Failed to fetch Gutenberg ebook ${SOURCE.source_ebook}: ${response.status}`); + } + const ebookText = normalizeText(stripBoilerplate(await response.text())); + + for (const spec of EXTRACT_SPECS) { + const poem = extractPoem(ebookText, spec); + const poemPath = path.join(poemsDir, `${spec.slug}.txt`); + const metaPath = path.join(metaDir, `${spec.slug}.yml`); + + await fs.writeFile(poemPath, `${poem}\n`, "utf8"); + await fs.writeFile(metaPath, buildMeta(spec), "utf8"); + console.log(`${SOURCE.author}: created ${spec.slug}`); + } + + console.log(`Total created: ${EXTRACT_SPECS.length}`); +} + +main().catch((error) => { + console.error(error.stack || error.message); + process.exit(1); +}); diff --git a/scripts/ingest-gutenberg-romantic-depth.mjs b/scripts/ingest-gutenberg-romantic-depth.mjs index cd8f8de..b3601d8 100644 --- a/scripts/ingest-gutenberg-romantic-depth.mjs +++ b/scripts/ingest-gutenberg-romantic-depth.mjs @@ -20,6 +20,51 @@ const POETS = [ end_line: "THE HUMAN ABSTRACT", force: true, }, + { + heading: "THE SHEPHERD", + slug: "the-shepherd", + title: "The Shepherd", + published_year: 1789, + start_line: "How sweet is the shepherd’s sweet lot!", + end_line: "THE ECHOING GREEN", + force: true, + }, + { + heading: "THE ECHOING GREEN", + slug: "the-echoing-green", + title: "The Echoing Green", + published_year: 1789, + start_line: "The sun does arise,", + end_line: "THE LAMB", + force: true, + }, + { + heading: "NIGHT", + slug: "night", + title: "Night", + published_year: 1789, + start_line: "The sun descending in the West,", + end_line: "SPRING", + force: true, + }, + { + heading: "THE FLY", + slug: "the-fly", + title: "The Fly", + published_year: 1794, + start_line: "Little Fly,", + end_line: "THE ANGEL", + force: true, + }, + { + heading: "AH, SUNFLOWER", + slug: "ah-sunflower", + title: "Ah, Sunflower", + published_year: 1794, + start_line: "Ah, sunflower, weary of time,", + end_line: "THE LILY", + force: true, + }, ], }, { diff --git a/scripts/ingest-gutenberg-whitman-depth.mjs b/scripts/ingest-gutenberg-whitman-depth.mjs index 9436a2f..3012b00 100644 --- a/scripts/ingest-gutenberg-whitman-depth.mjs +++ b/scripts/ingest-gutenberg-whitman-depth.mjs @@ -41,6 +41,36 @@ const EXTRACT_SPECS = [ start: "A Clear Midnight", end: "As the Time Draws Nigh", }, + { + slug: "when-i-read-the-book", + title: "When I Read the Book", + start: "When I Read the Book", + end: "Beginning My Studies", + }, + { + slug: "to-a-stranger", + title: "To a Stranger", + start: "To a Stranger", + end: "This Moment Yearning and Thoughtful", + }, + { + slug: "o-you-whom-i-often-and-silently-come", + title: "O You Whom I Often and Silently Come", + start: "O You Whom I Often and Silently Come", + end: "That Shadow My Likeness", + }, + { + slug: "i-hear-it-was-charged-against-me", + title: "I Hear It Was Charged Against Me", + start: "I Hear It Was Charged Against Me", + end: "The Prairie-Grass Dividing", + }, + { + slug: "miracles", + title: "Miracles", + start: "Miracles", + end: "Sparkles from the Wheel", + }, ]; function normalizeText(raw) { diff --git a/scripts/ingest-wikisource-browning-depth.mjs b/scripts/ingest-wikisource-browning-depth.mjs index 5d2ed67..c5340c3 100644 --- a/scripts/ingest-wikisource-browning-depth.mjs +++ b/scripts/ingest-wikisource-browning-depth.mjs @@ -77,6 +77,76 @@ const POEMS = [ start_line: "Where the quiet-coloured end of evening smiles", end_line: "Love is best!", }, + { + author: "Robert Browning", + author_slug: "robert-browning", + century: 19, + slug: "soliloquy-of-the-spanish-cloister", + title: "Soliloquy of the Spanish Cloister", + published_year: 1842, + source_url: "https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Soliloquy_of_the_Spanish_Cloister", + collection_title: "Dramatic Lyrics", + collection_source_url: "https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Bells_and_Pomegranates,_First_Series", + page_title: "Bells and Pomegranates, First Series/Cloister (Spanish)", + start_line: "Gr-r-r—there go, my heart's abhorrence!", + end_line: "Ave, Virgo! Gr-r-r—you swine!", + }, + { + author: "Robert Browning", + author_slug: "robert-browning", + century: 19, + slug: "the-pied-piper-of-hamelin", + title: "The Pied Piper of Hamelin", + published_year: 1842, + source_url: "https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Bells_and_Pomegranates,_First_Series/The_Pied_Piper_of_Hamelin", + collection_title: "Dramatic Lyrics", + collection_source_url: "https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Bells_and_Pomegranates,_First_Series", + page_title: "Bells and Pomegranates, First Series/The Pied Piper of Hamelin", + start_line: "Hamelin Town's in Brunswick,", + end_line: "If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise.", + }, + { + author: "Robert Browning", + author_slug: "robert-browning", + century: 19, + slug: "the-lost-mistress", + title: "The Lost Mistress", + published_year: 1845, + source_url: "https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Bells_and_Pomegranates,_Second_Series/The_Lost_Mistress", + collection_title: "Dramatic Romances and Lyrics", + collection_source_url: "https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Bells_and_Pomegranates,_Second_Series", + page_title: "Bells and Pomegranates, Second Series/The Lost Mistress", + start_line: "All's over, then—does truth sound bitter", + end_line: "Or so very little longer!", + }, + { + author: "Robert Browning", + author_slug: "robert-browning", + century: 19, + slug: "a-womans-last-word", + title: "A Woman's Last Word", + published_year: 1855, + source_url: "https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/A_Woman%27s_Last_Word", + collection_title: "Men and Women", + collection_source_url: "https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Men_and_Women_(Browning)", + page_title: "Men and Women (Browning)/Volume 1/A Woman's Last Word", + start_line: "Let's contend no more, Love,", + end_line: "Loved by thee.", + }, + { + author: "Robert Browning", + author_slug: "robert-browning", + century: 19, + slug: "prospice", + title: "Prospice", + published_year: 1864, + source_url: "https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Dramatis_Person%C3%A6/Prospice", + collection_title: "Dramatis Personæ", + collection_source_url: "https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Dramatis_Person%C3%A6", + page_title: "Dramatis Personæ/Prospice", + start_line: "Fear death?—to feel the fog in my throat,", + end_line: "And with God be the rest!", + }, ]; function decodeHtml(value) { @@ -129,10 +199,19 @@ function cleanRenderedText(html) { function extractPoem(text, startLine, endLine) { const lines = text.split("\n").map((line) => line.trimEnd()); - const start = lines.findIndex((line) => line.trim() === startLine); + const normalizeMatch = (value) => + value + .replace(/[’‘]/g, "'") + .replace(/[“”]/g, '"') + .replace(/\s+/g, " ") + .trim(); + + const start = lines.findIndex((line) => normalizeMatch(line) === normalizeMatch(startLine)); if (start === -1) throw new Error(`Start line not found: ${startLine}`); - const end = lines.findIndex((line, index) => index >= start && line.trim() === endLine); + const end = lines.findIndex( + (line, index) => index >= start && normalizeMatch(line) === normalizeMatch(endLine), + ); if (end === -1) throw new Error(`End line not found: ${endLine}`); return lines diff --git a/scripts/ingest-wikisource-shelley-depth.mjs b/scripts/ingest-wikisource-shelley-depth.mjs index 7b3519e..c315bd1 100644 --- a/scripts/ingest-wikisource-shelley-depth.mjs +++ b/scripts/ingest-wikisource-shelley-depth.mjs @@ -73,6 +73,73 @@ const POEMS = [ start_line: "The sun is warm, the sky is clear,", end_line: "Will linger, though enjoyed, like joy in memory yet.", }, + { + author: "Percy Bysshe Shelley", + author_slug: "percy-bysshe-shelley", + century: 19, + slug: "england-in-1819", + title: "England in 1819", + published_year: 1839, + source_url: + "https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Poetical_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley_(ed._Hutchinson,_1914)/Sonnet:_England_in_1819", + page_title: "The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (ed. Hutchinson, 1914)/Sonnet: England in 1819", + start_line: "An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,—", + end_line: "Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day.", + }, + { + author: "Percy Bysshe Shelley", + author_slug: "percy-bysshe-shelley", + century: 19, + slug: "lift-not-the-painted-veil", + title: "Lift not the painted veil", + published_year: 1824, + source_url: + "https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Poetical_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley_(ed._Hutchinson,_1914)/Sonnet:_%27Lift_not_the_painted_veil%27", + page_title: "The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (ed. Hutchinson, 1914)/Sonnet: 'Lift not the painted veil'", + start_line: "Lift not the painted veil which those who live", + end_line: "For truth, and like the Preacher found it not.", + }, + { + author: "Percy Bysshe Shelley", + author_slug: "percy-bysshe-shelley", + century: 19, + slug: "one-word-is-too-often-profaned", + title: "One Word Is Too Often Profaned", + published_year: 1824, + source_url: + "https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Poetical_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley_(ed._Hutchinson,_1914)/To_%E2%80%94%E2%80%94%E2%80%94._%27One_word_is_too_often_profaned%27", + page_title: + "The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (ed. Hutchinson, 1914)/To ——. 'One word is too often profaned'", + start_line: "One word is too often profaned", + end_line: "From the sphere of our sorrow?", + }, + { + author: "Percy Bysshe Shelley", + author_slug: "percy-bysshe-shelley", + century: 19, + slug: "ode-to-liberty", + title: "Ode to Liberty", + published_year: 1820, + source_url: + "https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Poetical_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley_(ed._Hutchinson,_1914)/Ode_to_Liberty", + page_title: "The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (ed. Hutchinson, 1914)/Ode to Liberty", + start_line: "A glorious people vibrated again", + end_line: "Hiss round a drowner's head in their tempestuous play.", + }, + { + author: "Percy Bysshe Shelley", + author_slug: "percy-bysshe-shelley", + century: 19, + slug: "lines-written-among-the-euganean-hills", + title: "Lines Written among the Euganean Hills", + published_year: 1819, + source_url: + "https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Poetical_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley_(ed._Hutchinson,_1914)/Lines_written_among_the_Euganean_Hills", + page_title: + "The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (ed. Hutchinson, 1914)/Lines written among the Euganean Hills", + start_line: "Many a green isle needs must be", + end_line: "And the earth grow young again.", + }, ]; function decodeHtml(value) { @@ -87,6 +154,7 @@ function decodeHtml(value) { .replace(/>/g, ">") .replace(/&/g, "&") .replace(/ /g, " ") + .replace(/ /g, " ") .replace(/[/g, "[") .replace(/]/g, "]") .replace(/_/g, "_")