=== text:source-poem:song-of-a-second-april ===
Owner: poem:song-of-a-second-april
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:song-of-a-second-april","title":"Song of a Second April","author":"Edna St. Vincent Millay","source_edition":"Second April (1921), Project Gutenberg ebook 1247","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1247","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain in the United States.","provenance_note":"First published 1921 in Second April · Text from Second April (1921), via Project Gutenberg ebook 1247.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: f753d4282d3e59cf0d5e6faa7ed945af65933d5ca73eeb3844b86ffc63afa45e

April this year, not otherwise
Than April of a year ago,
Is full of whispers, full of sighs,
Of dazzling mud and dingy snow;
Hepaticas that pleased you so
Are here again, and butterflies.

There rings a hammering all day,
And shingles lie about the doors;
In orchards near and far away
The grey wood-pecker taps and bores;
The men are merry at their chores,
And children earnest at their play.

The larger streams run still and deep,
Noisy and swift the small brooks run
Among the mullein stalks the sheep
Go up the hillside in the sun,
Pensively,—only you are gone,
You that alone I cared to keep.

=== text:source-poem:miracles ===
Owner: poem:miracles
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:miracles","title":"Miracles","author":"Walt Whitman","source_edition":"Leaves of Grass (1882), Autumn Rivulets, Wikisource","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/w/index.php?title=Leaves_of_Grass_%281882%29%2FAutumn_Rivulets%2FMiracles&oldid=15822566","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published as “Poem of Perfect Miracles” in the 1856 edition of Leaves of Grass · Text from Leaves of Grass (1882), “Autumn Rivulets,” via Wikisource; the scan’s OCR typo “dlihcate” is corrected to “delicate.”","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 33c3a462e99756ad0ec2f934a5ce864741b52508c4f0d4bf27de3afe3700683e

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?

=== text:source-poem:alone ===
Owner: poem:alone
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:alone","title":"Alone","author":"Edgar Allan Poe","source_edition":"Wikisource transcription of the 1875 publication","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Alone_(Poe)","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published September 1875 in Scribner’s Monthly Magazine · Text from Poe’s autograph manuscript (c. 1829), via Wikisource and checked against the Poe Society transcription.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 11220b7a6e0b8fdd8e447fe3f57e3123d24883911224e1e7a28d3046fcbacb4a

From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were — I have not seen
As others saw — I could not bring
My passions from a common spring —
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow — I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone —
And all I lov'd — I lov'd alone —
Then — in my childhood — in the dawn
Of a most stormy life — was drawn
From ev'ry depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still —
From the torrent, or the fountain —
From the red cliff of the mountain —
From the sun that 'round me roll'd
In its autumn tint of gold —
From the lightning in the sky
As it pass'd me flying by —
From the thunder, and the storm —
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view —

=== text:source-poem:wild-nights ===
Owner: poem:wild-nights
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:wild-nights","title":"Wild nights! Wild nights!","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1891 in Poems by Emily Dickinson: Second Series · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 1c197dbcb714ae040164a3e58005cfca92862d97b48a0042ba07b6124b078b18

Wild nights! Wild nights!
Were I with thee,
Wild nights should be
Our luxury!

Futile the winds
To a heart in port,—
Done with the compass,
Done with the chart.

Rowing in Eden!
Ah! the sea!
Might I but moor
To-night in thee!

=== text:source-poem:travel ===
Owner: poem:travel
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:travel","title":"Travel","author":"Edna St. Vincent Millay","source_edition":"Second April (1921), Project Gutenberg ebook 1247","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/1247","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain in the United States.","provenance_note":"First published 1921 in Second April · Text from Second April (1921), via Project Gutenberg ebook 1247.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: f9ff460aa01a3719c10a2f7a55ad34ee29a2f832608c684dc514fc3bd3664c6b

The railroad track is miles away,
And the day is loud with voices speaking,
Yet there isn't a train goes by all day
But I hear its whistle shrieking.

All night there isn't a train goes by,
Though the night is still for sleep and dreaming
But I see its cinders red on the sky,
And hear its engine steaming.

My heart is warm with the friends I make,
And better friends I'll not be knowing,
Yet there isn't a train I wouldn't take,
No matter where it's going.

=== text:source-poem:the-love-song-of-j-alfred-prufrock ===
Owner: poem:the-love-song-of-j-alfred-prufrock
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:the-love-song-of-j-alfred-prufrock","title":"The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock","author":"T. S. Eliot","source_edition":"Prufrock and Other Observations (1917)","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Prufrock_and_Other_Observations/The_Love_Song_of_J._Alfred_Prufrock","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain in the United States.","provenance_note":"First published June 1915 in Poetry · Text from Prufrock and Other Observations (1917), via Wikisource.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: fe596b3710183b42cf2fe91884dc860158bc34d3d471f84a5d71e1619003ac9a

S'io credesse che mia risposta fosse
A persona che mai tornasse al mondo,
Questa fiamma staria senza piu scosse.
Ma perciocche giammai di questo fondo
Non torno vivo alcun, s'i'odo il vero,
Senza tema d'infamia ti rispondo.

Let us go then, you and I,
When the evening is spread out against the sky
Like a patient etherized upon a table;
Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,
The muttering retreats
Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels
And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:
Streets that follow like a tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question. . . .

Oh, do not ask, "What is it?"
Let us go and make our visit.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,
The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,
Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,
Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,
Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,
Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,
And seeing that it was a soft October night,
Curled once about the house, and fell asleep.

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,
Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;
There will be time, there will be time
To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
There will be time to murder and create,
And time for all the works and days of hands
That lift and drop a question on your plate;
Time for you and time for me,
And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
And for a hundred visions and revisions,
Before the taking of a toast and tea.

In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michelangelo.

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, "Do I dare?" and, "Do I dare?"
Time to turn back and descend the stair,
With a bald spot in the middle of my hair—
(They will say: "How his hair is growing thin!")
My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,
My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin—
(They will say: "But how his arms and legs are thin!")
Do I dare
Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.

For I have known them all already, known them all:
Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,
I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all—
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,
And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,
When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,
Then how should I begin
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?
And how should I presume?

And I have known the arms already, known them all—
Arms that are braceleted and white and bare
(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)
Is it perfume from a dress
That makes me so digress?
Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl.
And should I then presume?
And how should I begin?

Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets
And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes
Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? . . .

I should have been a pair of ragged claws
Scuttling across the floors of silent seas.

And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!
Smoothed by long fingers,
Asleep . . . tired . . . or it malingers,
Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me.
Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,
Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,
I am no prophet—and here's no great matter;
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,
And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,
And in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it, after all,
After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,
Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,
Would it have been worth while,
To have bitten off the matter with a smile,
To have squeezed the universe into a ball
To roll it toward some overwhelming question,
To say: "I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all"—
If one, settling a pillow by her head,
Should say: "That is not what I meant at all;
That is not it, at all."

And would it have been worth it, after all,
Would it have been worth while,
After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,
After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—
And this, and so much more?—
It is impossible to say just what I mean!
But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:
Would it have been worth while
If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,
And turning toward the window, should say:
"That is not it at all,
That is not what I meant, at all."

No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;
Am an attendant lord, one that will do
To swell a progress, start a scene or two,
Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,
Deferential, glad to be of use,
Politic, cautious, and meticulous;
Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;
At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—
Almost, at times, the Fool.

I grow old . . . I grow old . . .
I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled.

Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.

I do not think that they will sing to me.

I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

=== text:source-poem:since-feeling-is-first ===
Owner: poem:since-feeling-is-first
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:since-feeling-is-first","title":"since feeling is first","author":"E. E. Cummings","source_edition":"is 5 (1926), FOUR","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Is_5/FOUR","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain in the United States.","provenance_note":"First published 1926 in is 5 · Text from is 5, 1970 Liveright paperback, FOUR VII, via Wikisource.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: c38614c8734e746ffbaaf30a77402948a844014d60bb7f2b655aac1fcf1385a1

since feeling is first
who pays any attention
to the syntax of things
will never wholly kiss you;

wholly to be a fool
while Spring is in the world

my blood approves,
and kisses are a better fate
than wisdom
lady i swear by all flowers. Don’t cry
—the best gesture of my brain is less than
your eyelids’ flutter which says

we are for each other: then
laugh, leaning back in my arms
for life’s not a paragraph

And death i think is no parenthesis

=== text:source-poem:barter ===
Owner: poem:barter
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:barter","title":"Barter","author":"Sara Teasdale","source_edition":"Love Songs (1917)","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/442","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain in the United States.","provenance_note":"First published June 1917 in Poetry · Text from a 1918 reprinting of Love Songs (1917), via Project Gutenberg.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 98a678a89e1c9328cf3c34dac6af02c34a3417a21c3e4de4e7c4ea1b1e0826de

Life has loveliness to sell,
All beautiful and splendid things,
Blue waves whitened on a cliff,
Soaring fire that sways and sings,
And children's faces looking up
Holding wonder like a cup.

Life has loveliness to sell,
Music like a curve of gold,
Scent of pine trees in the rain,
Eyes that love you, arms that hold,
And for your spirit's still delight,
Holy thoughts that star the night.

Spend all you have for loveliness,
Buy it and never count the cost;
For one white singing hour of peace
Count many a year of strife well lost,
And for a breath of ecstasy
Give all you have been, or could be.

=== text:source-poem:i-am-not-yours ===
Owner: poem:i-am-not-yours
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:i-am-not-yours","title":"I Am Not Yours","author":"Sara Teasdale","source_edition":"Love Songs (1917), Project Gutenberg ebook 442","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/442","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain in the United States.","provenance_note":"First published October 1915 in Rivers to the Sea · Text from a 1918 reprinting of Love Songs (1917), via Project Gutenberg.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 8d8bb63ad8f8b13ceec9c9d6bb51ce88fb582e6b261ae8f2d16e8bdad3fcd443

I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.

You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.

Oh plunge me deep in love—put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.

=== text:source-poem:love-me-now-sonnet-73 ===
Owner: poem:love-me-now-sonnet-73
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:love-me-now-sonnet-73","title":"Love Me Now (Sonnet 73)","author":"William Shakespeare","source_edition":"Shakespeare's Sonnets, William J. Rolfe edition (1883)","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Shakespeare%27s_Sonnets_(1883)/Sonnet_73","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1609 in Shake-speares Sonnets · Text from William J. Rolfe’s Shakespeare’s Sonnets (1883), via Wikisource.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 3f5c8e45e38b1b1958dc6dfdacd4deed74e6d8f2812c31e8c626060dcc4652cc

That time of year thou mayst in me behold
When yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
Upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
Bare ruin'd choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.
In me thou see'st the twilight of such day
As after sunset fadeth in the west,
Which by and by black night doth take away,
Death's second self, that seals up all in rest.
In me thou seest the glowing of such fire
That on the ashes of his youth doth lie,
As the death-bed whereon it must expire,
Consum'd with that which it was nourish'd by.
This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong,
To love that well which thou must leave ere long.

=== text:source-poem:summers-day-sonnet-18 ===
Owner: poem:summers-day-sonnet-18
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:summers-day-sonnet-18","title":"Summer's Day (Sonnet 18)","author":"William Shakespeare","source_edition":"Shakespeare's Sonnets, William J. Rolfe edition (1883)","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Shakespeare%27s_Sonnets_(1883)/Sonnet_18","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1609 in Shake-speares Sonnets · Text from William J. Rolfe’s Shakespeare’s Sonnets (1883), via Wikisource.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 902d795c2bf0dab50c3322f68fdb88bd7bdfb58a824144bd2867053585aadeb7

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer's lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm'd;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;
Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou growest:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this and this gives life to thee.

=== text:source-poem:autumn-movement ===
Owner: poem:autumn-movement
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:autumn-movement","title":"Autumn Movement","author":"Carl Sandburg","source_edition":"Cornhuskers (1918)","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Cornhuskers/Autumn_Movement","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain in the United States.","provenance_note":"First published October 1918 in Poetry · Text from Cornhuskers (1918), via Wikisource.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 3cca02848142919e16fd6481a7328efce5793f892175f297a5c2f350bf2d2950

I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.
The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.
The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go, not one lasts.

=== text:source-poem:after-the-winter ===
Owner: poem:after-the-winter
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:after-the-winter","title":"After the Winter","author":"Claude McKay","source_edition":"Harlem Shadows (1922), Project Gutenberg ebook 64989","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/64989","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain in the United States.","provenance_note":"First published as “After the Winters” in The Liberator (July 1919) · Text from Harlem Shadows (1922), via Project Gutenberg.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 9292ce7a3dc61db1a15aef57cb2f7727d1faa0b6b21baab0862dc6b28e0b00ba

Some day, when trees have shed their leaves
And against the morning’s white
The shivering birds beneath the eaves
Have sheltered for the night,
We’ll turn our faces southward, love,
Toward the summer isle
Where bamboos spire to shafted grove
And wide-mouthed orchids smile.

And we will seek the quiet hill
Where towers the cotton tree,
And leaps the laughing crystal rill,
And works the droning bee.
And we will build a cottage there
Beside an open glade,
With black-ribbed blue-bells blowing near,
And ferns that never fade.

=== text:source-poem:we-wear-the-mask ===
Owner: poem:we-wear-the-mask
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:we-wear-the-mask","title":"We Wear the Mask","author":"Paul Laurence Dunbar","source_edition":"The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Complete_Poems_of_Paul_Laurence_Dunbar/We_Wear_the_Mask","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1895 in Majors and Minors · Text from The Complete Poems of Paul Laurence Dunbar (1913), via Wikisource.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: c46759522e9b30cf8bca11ce5fb13d4d68b3d006d7fad7250230aa0f0f2cdc9a

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,—
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be over-wise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!

=== text:source-poem:summer-in-the-south ===
Owner: poem:summer-in-the-south
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:summer-in-the-south","title":"Summer in the South","author":"Paul Laurence Dunbar","source_edition":"PoetryDB public-domain corpus","source_url":"https://poetrydb.org/author,title/Paul%20Laurence%20Dunbar;Summer%20in%20the%20South","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published September 1903 in Lippincott’s Monthly Magazine · Text from the original printing in Lippincott’s Monthly Magazine (September 1903), checked against PoetryDB.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 28b8f5aac64a8e4895e4b24dd0e482f08aa4b78995e9d9166c83bdd191d0184b

The Oriole sings in the greening grove
As if he were half-way waiting,
The rosebuds peep from their hoods of green,
Timid, and hesitating.
The rain comes down in a torrent sweep
And the nights smell warm and piney,
The garden thrives, but the tender shoots
Are yellow-green and tiny.
Then a flash of sun on a waiting hill,
Streams laugh that erst were quiet,
The sky smiles down with a dazzling blue
And the woods run mad with riot.

=== text:source-poem:a-poison-tree ===
Owner: poem:a-poison-tree
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:a-poison-tree","title":"A Poison Tree","author":"William Blake","source_edition":"Songs of Innocence and of Experience (1826 edition)","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Songs_of_Innocence_and_of_Experience_(1826)/Songs_of_Experience/A_Poison_Tree","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1794 in Songs of Experience · Text from Wikisource’s regularized transcription of Songs of Innocence and of Experience, Copy Z (1826).","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 9bafcf7dd677b94138de0c57bf7d3103f9e0a78e3308691e708a90bf36e2cae2

I was angry with my friend:
I told my wrath, my wrath did end.
I was angry with my foe:
I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,
Night and morning with my tears;
And I sunned it with smiles,
And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night,
Till it bore an apple bright;
And my foe beheld it shine,
And he knew that it was mine,

And into my garden stole
When the night had veil'd the pole:
In the morning glad I see
My foe outstretch'd beneath the tree.

=== text:source-poem:a-dream-within-a-dream ===
Owner: poem:a-dream-within-a-dream
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:a-dream-within-a-dream","title":"A Dream within a Dream","author":"Edgar Allan Poe","source_edition":"The Works of the Late Edgar Allan Poe, Volume II (1859)","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/w/index.php?title=The_Works_of_the_Late_Edgar_Allan_Poe_%281859%29%2FVolume_2%2FA_Dream_within_a_Dream&oldid=14833594","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 31 March 1849 in Flag of Our Union · Text from The Works of the Late Edgar Allan Poe, vol. II (1859), via Wikisource.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: ad2d00009eefa8aa989cab2e7ba36c1f9e8c67c704b99ce9b48a80246194d14a

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow—
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand—
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep—while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?

=== text:source-poem:the-sick-rose ===
Owner: poem:the-sick-rose
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:the-sick-rose","title":"The Sick Rose","author":"William Blake","source_edition":"Songs of Innocence and of Experience (1826 edition)","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/w/index.php?title=Songs_of_Innocence_and_of_Experience_%281826%29%2FSongs_of_Experience%2FThe_Sick_Rose&oldid=13310188","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1794 in Songs of Experience · Text from Wikisource’s regularized transcription of Songs of Innocence and of Experience, Copy Z (1826).","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 079b4a64836bf289be2f621e7f9e287900288406940c9af62c390f7459844234

O rose thou art sick.
The invisible worm,
That flies in the night
In the howling storm:

Has found out thy bed
Of crimson joy:
And his dark secret love
Does thy life destroy.

=== text:source-poem:the-lamb ===
Owner: poem:the-lamb
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:the-lamb","title":"The Lamb","author":"William Blake","source_edition":"Songs of Innocence and of Experience (1826 edition)","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Songs_of_Innocence_and_of_Experience_(1826)/Songs_of_Innocence/The_Lamb","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1789 in Songs of Innocence · Text from Wikisource’s regularized transcription of Songs of Innocence and of Experience, Copy Z (1826).","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 06e46f8f23ae332f0701b0797e9da13409a6d80967130162c35df9a2da906c21

Little Lamb who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee
Gave thee life & bid thee feed,
By the stream & o'er the mead;
Gave thee clothing of delight,
Softest clothing wooly bright;
Gave thee such a tender voice,
Making all the vales rejoice:
Little Lamb who made thee
Dost thou know who made thee

Little Lamb I'll tell thee,
Little Lamb I'll tell thee:
He is called by thy name
For he calls himself a Lamb.
He is meek & he is mild,
He became a little child:
I a child & thou a lamb,
We are called by his name.
Little Lamb God bless thee
Little Lamb God bless thee.

=== text:source-poem:the-tyger ===
Owner: poem:the-tyger
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:the-tyger","title":"The Tyger","author":"William Blake","source_edition":"Poetry Foundation presentation, citing the 1794 illuminated manuscript facsimile","source_url":"https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/43687/the-tyger","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1794 in Songs of Experience · Text from Poetry Foundation’s editorially normalized presentation of Songs of Experience, citing a facsimile reproduction of the 1794 illuminated manuscript.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 70301d440f2b7e46720235c4e050257a8d3291e255a41e99c9ac0736142132a2

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, & what art,
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat.
What dread hand? & what dread feet?

What the hammer? what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain?
What the anvil? what dread grasp.
Dare its deadly terrors clasp?

When the stars threw down their spears
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?

=== text:source-poem:the-gift-to-sing ===
Owner: poem:the-gift-to-sing
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:the-gift-to-sing","title":"The Gift to Sing","author":"James Weldon Johnson","source_edition":"Fifty Years & Other Poems (1917)","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/w/index.php?title=Fifty_Years_%26_Other_Poems%2FThe_Gift_to_Sing&oldid=14842256","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain in the United States.","provenance_note":"First published 1917 in Fifty Years & Other Poems · Text from Fifty Years & Other Poems (1917), via Wikisource.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 196a44e53a3f863eca71d9b7edede74d4788dbde67e1d15c67de7ea3217aec0f

Sometimes the mist overhangs my path,
And blackening clouds about me cling;
But, oh, I have a magic way
To turn the gloom to cheerful day—
I softly sing.

And if the way grows darker still,
Shadowed by Sorrow's somber wing,
With glad defiance in my throat,
I pierce the darkness with a note,
And sing, and sing.

I brood not over the broken past,
Nor dread whatever time may bring;
No nights are dark, no days are long,
While in my heart there swells a song,
And I can sing.

=== text:source-poem:there-is-a-pain-so-utter ===
Owner: poem:there-is-a-pain-so-utter
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:there-is-a-pain-so-utter","title":"There is a pain so utter","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Further Poems of Emily Dickinson (1929)","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Further_Poems_of_Emily_Dickinson/There_is_a_pain_so_utter","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1929 in Further Poems of Emily Dickinson · Text from Further Poems of Emily Dickinson (1929), ed. Martha Dickinson Bianchi and Alfred Leete Hampson, via Wikisource.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 2bdbe735d6521ee7daddcb2201b27d136a634be1d7f213080ce1000a0b2894e6

THERE is a pain so utter
It swallows Being up,
Then covers the abyss with trance
So memory can step
Around, across, upon it,
As One within a swoon
Goes steady, when an open eye
Would drop him bone by bone.

=== text:source-poem:i-taste-a-liquor-never-brewed ===
Owner: poem:i-taste-a-liquor-never-brewed
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:i-taste-a-liquor-never-brewed","title":"I taste a liquor never brewed","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 4 May 1861 in the Springfield Daily Republican · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: d0d04b933143a68208609656d3e93cd8d7dcf812457228ecf7976ebe73309d34

I taste a liquor never brewed,
From tankards scooped in pearl;
Not all the vats upon the Rhine
Yield such an alcohol!

Inebriate of air am I,
And debauchee of dew,
Reeling, through endless summer days,
From inns of molten blue.

When landlords turn the drunken bee
Out of the foxglove's door,
When butterflies renounce their drams,
I shall but drink the more!

Till seraphs swing their snowy hats,
And saints to windows run,
To see the little tippler
Leaning against the sun!

=== text:source-poem:tell-all-the-truth-but-tell-it-slant ===
Owner: poem:tell-all-the-truth-but-tell-it-slant
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:tell-all-the-truth-but-tell-it-slant","title":"Tell all the Truth but tell it slant","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Amherst Manuscript #372 (about 1868), Johnson transcription cross-check","source_url":"https://curiosity.lib.harvard.edu/emily-dickinson-archive/catalog/195-EDA3589_J1129","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1945 · Text from UPenn’s Johnson-numbered transcription, checked against Amherst Manuscript #372 (c. 1868).","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 278611b3eae0ee0b76bc5e3206c08db00634e8dda4e4adedb12dbe928eefcb34

Tell all the Truth but tell it slant—
Success in Circuit lies
Too bright for our infirm Delight
The Truth's superb surprise

As Lightning to the Children eased
With explanation kind
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Or every man be blind—

=== text:source-poem:my-life-had-stood-a-loaded-gun ===
Owner: poem:my-life-had-stood-a-loaded-gun
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:my-life-had-stood-a-loaded-gun","title":"My life had stood a loaded gun","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Further Poems of Emily Dickinson (1929)","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/Further_Poems_of_Emily_Dickinson/My_life_had_stood_a_loaded_gun","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1929 in Further Poems of Emily Dickinson · Text from Further Poems of Emily Dickinson (1929), ed. Martha Dickinson Bianchi and Alfred Leete Hampson, via Wikisource.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 6ab65f1803fd79fca587f72e6b0eef57a41030cde51838842b9963cf5501e497

MY life had stood a loaded gun
In corners, till a day
The owner passed—identified,
And carried me away.

And now we roam the sov'reign woods,
And now we hunt the doe—
And every time I speak for him
The mountains straight reply.

And do I smile, such cordial light
Upon the valley glow—
It is as a Vesuvian face
Had let its pleasure through.

And when at night, our good day done,
I guard my master's head,
'Tis better than the eider duck's
Deep pillow to have shared.

To foe of his I'm deadly foe,
None stir the second time
On whom I lay a yellow eye
Or an emphatic thumb.

Though I than he may longer live,
He longer must than I,
For I have but the art to kill—
Without the power to die.

=== text:source-poem:a-bird-came-down-the-walk ===
Owner: poem:a-bird-came-down-the-walk
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:a-bird-came-down-the-walk","title":"A bird came down the walk","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published October 1891 in The Atlantic Monthly · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: fb5ed5a738b71a36d4406c341806d54e3c41a6ad684a2a71e761571749030f1e

A bird came down the walk:
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.

And then he drank a dew
From a convenient grass,
And then hopped sidewise to the wall
To let a beetle pass.

He glanced with rapid eyes
That hurried all abroad,—
They looked like frightened beads, I thought;
He stirred his velvet head

Like one in danger; cautious,
I offered him a crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home

Than oars divide the ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or butterflies, off banks of noon,
Leap, plashless, as they swim.

=== text:source-poem:the-wind-begun-to-rock-the-grass ===
Owner: poem:the-wind-begun-to-rock-the-grass
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:the-wind-begun-to-rock-the-grass","title":"The wind begun to rock the grass","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1891 in Poems by Emily Dickinson: Second Series · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 94bc1673280d1fa262203e3c9d656dd21b4cb7f5bbebdb688ed07d3eb3177415

The wind begun to rock the grass
With threatening tunes and low,—
He flung a menace at the earth,
A menace at the sky.

The leaves unhooked themselves from trees
And started all abroad;
The dust did scoop itself like hands
And throw away the road.

The wagons quickened on the streets,
The thunder hurried slow;
The lightning showed a yellow beak,
And then a livid claw.

The birds put up the bars to nests,
The cattle fled to barns;
There came one drop of giant rain,
And then, as if the hands

That held the dams had parted hold,
The waters wrecked the sky,
But overlooked my father's house,
Just quartering a tree.

=== text:source-poem:he-fumbles-at-your-spirit ===
Owner: poem:he-fumbles-at-your-spirit
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:he-fumbles-at-your-spirit","title":"He fumbles at your soul","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1896 in Poems by Emily Dickinson: Third Series · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: bea0a59070eb980ca09e6bab15dc504341794ce535e1e1381a77dd1f4243e140

He fumbles at your soul
As players at the keys
Before they drop full music on;
He stuns you by degrees,

Prepares your brittle substance
For the ethereal blow,
By fainter hammers, further heard,
Then nearer, then so slow

Your breath has time to straighten,
Your brain to bubble cool,—
Deals one imperial thunderbolt
That scalps your naked soul.

=== text:source-poem:success-is-counted-sweetest ===
Owner: poem:success-is-counted-sweetest
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:success-is-counted-sweetest","title":"Success is counted sweetest","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 27 April 1864 in the Brooklyn Daily Union · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: caf3624329909211234ce6e87e61bf163b18e9019fb82022c2c37be848ef140a

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple host
Who took the flag to-day
Can tell the definition,
So clear, of victory,

As he, defeated, dying,
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Break, agonized and clear!

=== text:source-poem:i-felt-a-funeral-in-my-brain ===
Owner: poem:i-felt-a-funeral-in-my-brain
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:i-felt-a-funeral-in-my-brain","title":"I felt a funeral in my brain","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1896 in Poems by Emily Dickinson: Third Series · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 6c51f466b5a920943d7356203303269e9dcbb394fb38f077090d077c7febc413

I felt a funeral in my brain,
And mourners, to and fro,
Kept treading, treading, till it seemed
That sense was breaking through.

And when they all were seated,
A service like a drum
Kept beating, beating, till I thought
My mind was going numb.

And then I heard them lift a box,
And creak across my soul
With those same boots of lead, again.
Then space began to toll

As all the heavens were a bell,
And Being but an ear,
And I and silence some strange race,
Wrecked, solitary, here.

=== text:source-poem:a-light-exists-in-spring ===
Owner: poem:a-light-exists-in-spring
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:a-light-exists-in-spring","title":"A light exists in spring","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1896 in Poems by Emily Dickinson: Third Series · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 21ece13522238d7ef7b74abf466f9c6e75f4a1af2297f22f3359f0613a3eb588

A light exists in spring
Not present on the year
At any other period.
When March is scarcely here

A color stands abroad
On solitary hills
That science cannot overtake,
But human nature feels.

It waits upon the lawn;
It shows the furthest tree
Upon the furthest slope we know;
It almost speaks to me.

Then, as horizons step,
Or noons report away,
Without the formula of sound,
It passes, and we stay:

A quality of loss
Affecting our content,
As trade had suddenly encroached
Upon a sacrament.

=== text:source-poem:i-see-thee-better-in-the-dark ===
Owner: poem:i-see-thee-better-in-the-dark
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:i-see-thee-better-in-the-dark","title":"I see thee better in the dark","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"The Single Hound (1914)","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Single_Hound/I_see_thee_better_in_the_dark","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1914 in The Single Hound: Poems of a Lifetime · Text from The Single Hound: Poems of a Lifetime (1914), ed. Martha Dickinson Bianchi, via Wikisource.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: bac65b7ce6924511f0895e02fad13261770dade1dbdf7be9f49ad0a16c3760a1

I SEE thee better in the dark,
I do not need a light.
The love of thee a prism be
Excelling violet.

I see thee better for the years
That hunch themselves between,
The miner's lamp sufficient be
To nullify the mine.

And in the grave I see thee best—
Its little panels be
A-glow, all ruddy with the light
I held so high for thee!

What need of day to those whose dark
Hath so surpassing sun,
It seem it be continually
At the meridian?

=== text:source-poem:hope-is-the-thing-with-feathers ===
Owner: poem:hope-is-the-thing-with-feathers
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:hope-is-the-thing-with-feathers","title":"Hope is the thing with feathers","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1891 in Poems by Emily Dickinson: Second Series · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: deb36ce4e07e66cb6bb02ba9c44536f4d899012af5926eaca54a2538f1b0c697

Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words,
And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;
And sore must be the storm
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.

I 've heard it in the chillest land,
And on the strangest sea;
Yet, never, in extremity,
It asked a crumb of me.

=== text:source-poem:nature-the-gentlest-mother ===
Owner: poem:nature-the-gentlest-mother
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:nature-the-gentlest-mother","title":"Nature, the gentlest mother","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1891 in Poems by Emily Dickinson: Second Series · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 8736430470dabf3f4f14e927176a189c37f1b53a214a882c3ff419170b40eb96

Nature, the gentlest mother,
Impatient of no child,
The feeblest or the waywardest,—
Her admonition mild

In forest and the hill
By traveller is heard,
Restraining rampant squirrel
Or too impetuous bird.

How fair her conversation,
A summer afternoon,—
Her household, her assembly;
And when the sun goes down

Her voice among the aisles
Incites the timid prayer
Of the minutest cricket,
The most unworthy flower.

When all the children sleep
She turns as long away
As will suffice to light her lamps;
Then, bending from the sky

With infinite affection
And infiniter care,
Her golden finger on her lip,
Wills silence everywhere.

=== text:source-poem:that-i-did-always-love ===
Owner: poem:that-i-did-always-love
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:that-i-did-always-love","title":"That I did always love","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 12 November 1890 in Poems by Emily Dickinson · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: d426c114927f39f322fede13a34788c021e3e605551af8e108969ed0147f3c80

That I did always love,
I bring thee proof:
That till I loved
I did not love enough.

That I shall love alway,
I offer thee
That love is life,
And life hath immortality.

This, dost thou doubt, sweet?
Then have I
Nothing to show
But Calvary.

=== text:source-poem:apparently-with-no-surprise ===
Owner: poem:apparently-with-no-surprise
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:apparently-with-no-surprise","title":"Apparently with no surprise","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 12 November 1890 in Poems by Emily Dickinson · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: c1bc1976ee533eabf40ea74366779a44df6401ce3d23b35f7805c20ff11b63a4

Apparently with no surprise
To any happy flower,
The frost beheads it at its play
In accidental power.
The blond assassin passes on,
The sun proceeds unmoved
To measure off another day
For an approving God.

=== text:source-poem:much-madness-is-divinest-sense ===
Owner: poem:much-madness-is-divinest-sense
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:much-madness-is-divinest-sense","title":"Much madness is divinest sense","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 12 November 1890 in Poems by Emily Dickinson · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: c9ab40460dd2207a0083d8d08ece27e93d296de6b563fad0292ba3b2deddd37d

Much madness is divinest sense
To a discerning eye;
Much sense the starkest madness.
'T is the majority
In this, as all, prevails.
Assent, and you are sane;
Demur,—you're straightway dangerous,
And handled with a chain.

=== text:source-poem:baffled-for-just-a-day-or-two ===
Owner: poem:baffled-for-just-a-day-or-two
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:baffled-for-just-a-day-or-two","title":"Baffled for just a day or two","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Autograph manuscript (about 1859), Johnson transcription cross-check","source_url":"https://curiosity.lib.harvard.edu/emily-dickinson-archive/catalog/195-EDA0092_F66A","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1945 in Bolts of Melody: New Poems of Emily Dickinson · Text from UPenn’s Johnson-numbered transcription, checked against the autograph manuscript (c. 1859).","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 876c3a1d6a26a06257f2faa560c34c42a4ad6eeda9d85b15f27730e4a3d1a9e7

Baffled for just a day or two—
Embarrassed—not afraid—
Encounter in my garden
An unexpected Maid.

She beckons, and the woods start—
She nods, and all begin—
Surely, such a country
I was never in!

=== text:source-poem:i-years-had-been-from-home ===
Owner: poem:i-years-had-been-from-home
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:i-years-had-been-from-home","title":"I years had been from home","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1891 in Poems by Emily Dickinson: Second Series · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 7706269e074a39303ddd9763da2e26e4448188f1bc6e9ea21ca8de14fe8807cb

I years had been from home,
And now, before the door,
I dared not open, lest a face
I never saw before

Stare vacant into mine
And ask my business there.
My business,—just a life I left,
Was such still dwelling there?

I fumbled at my nerve,
I scanned the windows near;
The silence like an ocean rolled,
And broke against my ear.

I laughed a wooden laugh
That I could fear a door,
Who danger and the dead had faced,
But never quaked before.

I fitted to the latch
My hand, with trembling care,
Lest back the awful door should spring,
And leave me standing there.

I moved my fingers off
As cautiously as glass,
And held my ears, and like a thief
Fled gasping from the house.

=== text:source-poem:the-brain-is-wider-than-the-sky ===
Owner: poem:the-brain-is-wider-than-the-sky
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:the-brain-is-wider-than-the-sky","title":"The brain is wider than the sky","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1896 in Poems by Emily Dickinson: Third Series · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: bc870eb1633ab87d4f58fe7a21c2836455ae99336358e3e512a261516fcb4a7e

The brain is wider than the sky,
For, put them side by side,
The one the other will include
With ease, and you beside.

The brain is deeper than the sea,
For, hold them, blue to blue,
The one the other will absorb,
As sponges, buckets do.

The brain is just the weight of God,
For, lift them, pound for pound,
And they will differ, if they do,
As syllable from sound.

=== text:source-poem:i-showed-her-heights-she-never-saw ===
Owner: poem:i-showed-her-heights-she-never-saw
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:i-showed-her-heights-she-never-saw","title":"I showed her heights she never saw","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"The Single Hound (1914)","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/The_Single_Hound/I_showed_her_heights_she_never_saw","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1914 in The Single Hound: Poems of a Lifetime · Text from The Single Hound: Poems of a Lifetime (1914), ed. Martha Dickinson Bianchi, via Wikisource.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: ab03a6494d83fd583ea7d335c6ec91915e37d2f8baefbbff16fea484ed03f9f7

I SHOWED her heights she never saw—
"Would'st climb?" I said,
She said "Not so"—
"With me?" I said, "With me?"
I showed her secrets
Morning's nest,
The rope that Nights were put across—
And now, "Would'st have me for a Guest?"
She could not find her yes—
And then, I brake my life, and Lo!
A light for her, did solemn glow,
The larger, as her face withdrew—
And could she, further, "No?"

=== text:source-poem:an-awful-tempest-mashed-the-air ===
Owner: poem:an-awful-tempest-mashed-the-air
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:an-awful-tempest-mashed-the-air","title":"An awful tempest mashed the air","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 1891 in Poems by Emily Dickinson: Second Series · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 3c8ba35f2b16c42310b00e3b0a9f59a2865ba8734d2f6bfbd110d3d7a8cdd722

An awful tempest mashed the air,
The clouds were gaunt and few;
A black, as of a spectre's cloak,
Hid heaven and earth from view.

The creatures chuckled on the roofs
And whistled in the air,
And shook their fists and gnashed their teeth.
And swung their frenzied hair.

The morning lit, the birds arose;
The monster's faded eyes
Turned slowly to his native coast,
And peace was Paradise!

=== text:source-poem:because-i-could-not-stop-for-death ===
Owner: poem:because-i-could-not-stop-for-death
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:because-i-could-not-stop-for-death","title":"Because I could not stop for Death","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 12 November 1890 in Poems by Emily Dickinson · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: c5fba9d471e70e4963e4164a46dfae901d0bf6b859bf7c878e83aee944a78779

Because I could not stop for Death,
He kindly stopped for me;
The carriage held but just ourselves
And Immortality.

We slowly drove, he knew no haste,
And I had put away
My labor, and my leisure too,
For his civility.

We passed the school where children played,
Their lessons scarcely done;
We passed the fields of gazing grain,
We passed the setting sun.

We paused before a house that seemed
A swelling of the ground;
The roof was scarcely visible,
The cornice but a mound.

Since then 't is centuries; but each
Feels shorter than the day
I first surmised the horses' heads
Were toward eternity.

=== text:source-poem:this-world-is-not-conclusion ===
Owner: poem:this-world-is-not-conclusion
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:this-world-is-not-conclusion","title":"This world is not conclusion","author":"Emily Dickinson","source_edition":"Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/12242","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 25 January 1896 in The Outlook · Text from Poems by Emily Dickinson, Three Series, Complete, a Project Gutenberg compilation of the 1890, 1891, and 1896 series.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 1eb773fe6a7cb49325b0868142ddcbee8346b0949d9985e34b201549747ef65e

This world is not conclusion;
A sequel stands beyond,
Invisible, as music,
But positive, as sound.
It beckons and it baffles;
Philosophies don't know,
And through a riddle, at the last,
Sagacity must go.
To guess it puzzles scholars;
To gain it, men have shown
Contempt of generations,
And crucifixion known.

=== text:source-poem:morning-song ===
Owner: poem:morning-song
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:morning-song","title":"Morning Song","author":"Sara Teasdale","source_edition":"Flame and Shadow (1920), Project Gutenberg ebook 591","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/591","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain in the United States.","provenance_note":"First published 1920 in Flame and Shadow · Text from Flame and Shadow (1920), via Project Gutenberg ebook 591.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: dec39e33456343560d4d18f694d53063bdf1640354e86da0899a60923ed737cc

A diamond of a morning
Waked me an hour too soon;
Dawn had taken in the stars
And left the faint white moon.
O white moon, you are lonely,
It is the same with me,
But we have the world to roam over,
Only the lonely are free.

=== text:source-poem:loves-philosophy ===
Owner: poem:loves-philosophy
Rights scope: independent source-work rights
{"id":"poem:loves-philosophy","title":"Love’s Philosophy","author":"Percy Bysshe Shelley","source_edition":"The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (ed. Hutchinson, 1914), Wikisource revision 14207101","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/w/index.php?title=The_Complete_Poetical_Works_of_Percy_Bysshe_Shelley_(ed._Hutchinson,_1914)/Love%27s_Philosophy&oldid=14207101","rights_sentence":"Poem is public domain.","provenance_note":"First published 22 December 1819 in The Indicator · Text from The Complete Poetical Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (ed. Thomas Hutchinson, 1914), via Wikisource revision 14207101.","rights_profile_id":"public-domain","authored_by_hello_doggo":false,"inherit_hello_doggo_cc0":false}
Text SHA-256: 21ea07d8e84a6f2cda0b3cf23fea5b33722783e5c98d5fa64b71e05e9f7e216b

The fountains mingle with the river
And the rivers with the ocean,
The winds of heaven mix for ever
With a sweet emotion;
Nothing in the world is single;
All things by a law divine
In one spirit meet and mingle.
Why not I with thine?—

See the mountains kiss high heaven
And the waves clasp one another;
No sister-flower would be forgiven
If it disdained its brother;
And the sunlight clasps the earth
And the moonbeams kiss the sea:
What is all this sweet work worth
If thou kiss not me?