diff --git a/.github/workflows/daily-poem.yml b/.github/workflows/daily-poem.yml index 542cd52..c784a50 100644 --- a/.github/workflows/daily-poem.yml +++ b/.github/workflows/daily-poem.yml @@ -1,7 +1,7 @@ name: Poem of the day on: schedule: - - cron: "0 11 * * *" # daily at 11:00 UTC (usually 06:00 EST) + - cron: "55 10 * * *" # daily at 10:55 UTC, so that it sends at 11 UTC (usually 06:00 AM EST) workflow_dispatch: jobs: diff --git a/README.rst b/README.rst index 600799f..ee47f2e 100644 --- a/README.rst +++ b/README.rst @@ -1,3 +1,3 @@ -All of the poems in here are good, or interesting. There are currently 8,959 poems in 43 (3.594) languages by 590 (254.554) authors from 54 (9.286) countries. +All of the poems in here are good, or interesting. There are currently 8,965 poems in 43 (3.592) languages by 590 (254.802) authors from 54 (9.282) countries. (The quantites in the parentheses are the effective counts, based on the entropy of the distribution over the poems.) \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/poems/data/poems.json b/poems/data/poems.json index c0dacab..6abf3e8 100644 --- a/poems/data/poems.json +++ b/poems/data/poems.json @@ -21762,7 +21762,7 @@ }, "poems": { "and-thou-art-dead-as-young-and-fair": { - "title": "“And Thou Art Dead, as Young and Fair”", + "title": "“And thou art dead, as young and fair …”", "body": "And thou art dead, as young and fair\nAs aught of mortal birth;\nAnd form so soft, and charms so rare,\nToo soon return’d to Earth!\nThough Earth receiv’d them in her bed,\nAnd o’er the spot the crowd may tread\nIn carelessness or mirth,\nThere is an eye which could not brook\nA moment on that grave to look.\n\nI will not ask where thou liest low,\nNor gaze upon the spot;\nThere flowers or weeds at will may grow,\nSo I behold them not:\nIt is enough for me to prove\nThat what I lov’d, and long must love,\nLike common earth can rot;\nTo me there needs no stone to tell,\n’T is Nothing that I lov’d so well.\n\nYet did I love thee to the last\nAs fervently as thou,\nWho didst not change through all the past,\nAnd canst not alter now.\nThe love where Death has set his seal,\nNor age can chill, nor rival steal,\nNor falsehood disavow:\nAnd, what were worse, thou canst not see\nOr wrong, or change, or fault in me.\n\nThe better days of life were ours;\nThe worst can be but mine:\nThe sun that cheers, the storm that lowers,\nShall never more be thine.\nThe silence of that dreamless sleep\nI envy now too much to weep;\nNor need I to repine\nThat all those charms have pass’d away,\nI might have watch’d through long decay.\n\nThe flower in ripen’d bloom unmatch’d\nMust fall the earliest prey;\nThough by no hand untimely snatch’d,\nThe leaves must drop away:\nAnd yet it were a greater grief\nTo watch it withering, leaf by leaf,\nThan see it pluck’d to-day;\nSince earthly eye but ill can bear\nTo trace the change to foul from fair.\n\nI know not if I could have borne\nTo see thy beauties fade;\nThe night that follow’d such a morn\nHad worn a deeper shade:\nThy day without a cloud hath pass’d,\nAnd thou wert lovely to the last,\nExtinguish’d, not decay’d;\nAs stars that shoot along the sky\nShine brightest as they fall from high.\n\nAs once I wept, if I could weep,\nMy tears might well be shed,\nTo think I was not near to keep\nOne vigil o’er thy bed;\nTo gaze, how fondly! on thy face,\nTo fold thee in a faint embrace,\nUphold thy drooping head;\nAnd show that love, however vain,\nNor thou nor I can feel again.\n\nYet how much less it were to gain,\nThough thou hast left me free,\nThe loveliest things that still remain,\nThan thus remember thee!\nThe all of thine that cannot die\nThrough dark and dread Eternity\nReturns again to me,\nAnd more thy buried love endears\nThan aught except its living years.", "metadata": { "language": "English", @@ -21858,7 +21858,7 @@ } }, "she-walks-in-beauty": { - "title": "“She Walks in Beauty”", + "title": "“She walks in beauty …”", "body": "She walks in beauty, like the night\nOf cloudless climes and starry skies;\nAnd all that’s best of dark and bright\nMeet in her aspect and her eyes;\nThus mellowed to that tender light\nWhich heaven to gaudy day denies.\n\nOne shade the more, one ray the less,\nHad half impaired the nameless grace\nWhich waves in every raven tress,\nOr softly lightens o’er her face;\nWhere thoughts serenely sweet express,\nHow pure, how dear their dwelling-place.\n\nAnd on that cheek, and o’er that brow,\nSo soft, so calm, yet eloquent,\nThe smiles that win, the tints that glow,\nBut tell of days in goodness spent,\nA mind at peace with all below,\nA heart whose love is innocent!", "metadata": { "language": "English", @@ -21869,7 +21869,7 @@ } }, "snatched-away-in-beautys-bloom": { - "title": "“Snatched Away in Beauty’s Bloom”", + "title": "“Snatched away in beauty’s bloom …”", "body": "# I.\n\nOh! snatched away in beauty’s bloom,\nOn thee shall press no ponderous tomb;\nBut on thy turf shall roses rear\nTheir leaves, the earliest of the year;\nAnd the wild cypress wave in tender gloom:\n\n\n# II.\n\nAnd oft by yon blue gushing stream\nShall Sorrow lean her drooping head,\nAnd feed deep thought with many a dream,\nAnd lingering pause and lightly tread;\nFond wretch! as if her step disturbed the dead!\n\n\n# III.\n\nAway! we know that tears are vain,\nThat Death nor heeds nor hears distress:\nWill this unteach us to complain?\nOr make one mourner weep the less?\nAnd thou--who tell’st me to forget,\nThy looks are wan, thine eyes are wet.", "metadata": { "language": "English", @@ -39924,7 +39924,7 @@ ], "education": null, "movement": [], - "religion": null, + "religion": "Christian", "nationality": [ "lebanon", "united-states" @@ -45626,7 +45626,7 @@ "poet" ], "education": { - "bachelors": "University of St Andrews" + "bachelors": "University of Saint Andrews" }, "movement": [], "religion": null, @@ -45656,6 +45656,9 @@ "body": "Out of the night that covers me,\n Black as the pit from pole to pole,\nI thank whatever gods may be\n For my unconquerable soul.\n\nIn the fell clutch of circumstance\n I have not winced nor cried aloud.\nUnder the bludgeonings of chance\n My head is bloody, but unbowed.\n\nBeyond this place of wrath and tears\n Looms but the Horror of the shade,\nAnd yet the menace of the years\n Finds and shall find me unafraid.\n\nIt matters not how strait the gate,\n How charged with punishments the scroll,\nI am the master of my fate,\n I am the captain of my soul.", "metadata": { "language": "English", + "time": { + "year": 1875 + }, "tags": [] } }, @@ -51999,21 +52002,36 @@ "name": "Lionel Johnson", "birth": { "date": { - "year": 1867 + "year": 1867, + "month": "march", + "day": 15 + }, + "place": { + "city": "Broadstairs", + "state": "Kent", + "country": "England" } }, "death": { "date": { - "year": 1902 + "year": 1902, + "month": "october", + "day": 4 + }, + "place": { + "state": "London", + "country": "England" } }, "gender": "male", "occupation": [ "poet" ], - "education": null, + "education": { + "bachelors": "New College, Oxford" + }, "movement": [], - "religion": null, + "religion": "Catholic", "nationality": [ "england" ], @@ -52027,11 +52045,88 @@ ] }, "poems": { + "ash-wednesday": { + "title": "“Ash Wednesday”", + "body": "Ashen cross traced on brow!\nIron cross hid in breast!\nHave power, bring patience, now:\nBid passion be at rest.\n\nO sad, dear, days of Lent!\nNow lengthen your gray hours:\nIf so we may repent,\nBefore the time of flowers.\n\nMajestical, austere,\nThe sanctuaries look stern:\nAll silent! all severe!\nSave where the lone lamps burn.\n\nImprisoned there above\nThe world’s indifferency:\nStill waits Eternal Love,\nWith wounds from Calvary.\n\nCome! mourning companies;\nCome! to sad Christ draw near:\nCome! sin’s confederacies;\nLay down your malice here.\n\nHere is the healing place,\nAnd here the place of peace:\nSorrow is sweet with grace\nHere, and here sin hath cease.", + "metadata": { + "to": "Rev. Father Strappini, S.J.", + "language": "English", + "source": { + "title": "Poems", + "type": "book", + "link": "https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/66520/pg66520-images.html", + "published": { + "year": 1895 + } + }, + "time": { + "year": 1893 + }, + "tags": [], + "context": { + "holiday": "ash_wednesday" + } + } + }, + "bagley-wood": { + "title": "“Bagley Wood”", + "body": "The night is full of stars, full of magnificence:\nNightingales hold the wood, and fragrance loads the dark.\nBehold, what fires august, what lights eternal! Hark,\nWhat passionate music poured in passionate love’s defence!\nBreathe but the wafting wind’s nocturnal frankincense!\nOnly to feel this night’s great heart, only to mark\nThe splendours and the glooms, brings back the patriarch,\nWho on Chaldaean wastes found God through reverence.\n\nCould we but live at will upon this perfect height,\nCould we but always keep the passion of this peace,\nCould we but face unshamed the look of this pure light,\nCould we but win earth’s heart, and give desire release:\nThen were we all divine, and then were ours by right\nThese stars, these nightingales, these scents: then shame would cease.", + "metadata": { + "language": "English", + "source": { + "title": "Poems", + "type": "book", + "link": "https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/66520/pg66520-images.html", + "published": { + "year": 1895 + } + }, + "time": { + "year": 1890 + }, + "tags": [] + } + }, + "comfort": { + "title": "“Comfort”", + "body": "Winter is at the door,\n Winter! Winter!\nWinter is at the door:\nFor all along the worn oak floor\nWaver the carpets; and before\nThe once warm southern orchard wall,\nThe last October peaches fall;\nIn vain behind their fellows all\n Belated.\n\nWinter is come apace,\n Winter! Winter!\nWinter is come apace.\nThe fireside is the cheeriest place,\nTo wear unfeigned a merry face:\nWhile music tells, though now ’tis chill,\nHow merle, and maid, and mavis, will,\nWhen spring comes dancing down the hill,\n Be mated.", + "metadata": { + "to": "Claud Schuster", + "language": "English", + "source": { + "title": "Poems", + "type": "book", + "link": "https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/66520/pg66520-images.html", + "published": { + "year": 1895 + } + }, + "time": { + "year": 1887 + }, + "tags": [], + "context": { + "month": "october", + "month_epoch": "late" + } + } + }, "the-dark-angel": { "title": "“The Dark Angel”", - "body": "Dark Angel, with thine aching lust\nTo rid the world of penitence:\nMalicious Angel, who still dost\nMy soul such subtile violence!\n\nBecause of thee, no thought, no thing,\nAbides for me undesecrate:\nDark Angel, ever on the wing,\nWho never reachest me too late!\n\nWhen music sounds, then changest thou\nIts silvery to a sultry fire:\nNor will thine envious heart allow\nDelight untortured by desire.\n\nThrough thee, the gracious Muses turn,\nTo Furies, O mine Enemy!\nAnd all the things of beauty burn\nWith flames of evil ecstasy.\n\nBecause of thee, the land of dreams\nBecomes a gathering place of fears:\nUntil tormented slumber seems\nOne vehemence of useless tears.\n\nWhen sunlight glows upon the flowers,\nOr ripples down the dancing sea:\nThou, with thy troop of passionate powers,\nBeleaguerest, bewilderest, me.\n\nWithin the breath of autumn woods,\nWithin the winter silences:\nThy venomous spirit stirs and broods,\nO Master of impieties!\n\nThe ardour of red flame is thine,\nAnd thine the steely soul of ice:\nThou poisonest the fair design\nOf nature, with unfair device.\n\nApples of ashes, golden bright;\nWaters of bitterness, how sweet!\nO banquet of a foul delight,\nPrepared by thee, dark Paraclete!\n\nThou art the whisper in the gloom,\nThe hinting tone, the haunting laugh:\nThou art the adorner of my tomb,\nThe minstrel of mine epitaph.\n\nI fight thee, in the Holy Name!\nYet, what thou dost, is what God saith:\nTempter! should I escape thy flame,\nThou wilt have helped my soul from Death:\n\nThe second Death, that never dies,\nThat cannot die, when time is dead:\nLive Death, wherein the lost soul cries,\nEternally uncomforted.\n\nDark Angel, with thine aching lust!\nOf two defeats, of two despairs:\nLess dread, a change to drifting dust,\nThan thine eternity of cares.\n\nDo what thou wilt, thou shalt not so,\nDark Angel! triumph over me:\nLonely, unto the Lone I go;\nDivine, to the Divinity.", + "body": "Dark Angel, with thine aching lust\nTo rid the world of penitence:\nMalicious Angel, who still dost\nMy soul such subtile violence!\n\nBecause of thee, no thought, no thing,\nAbides for me undesecrate:\nDark Angel, ever on the wing,\nWho never reachest me too late!\n\nWhen music sounds, then changest thou\nIts silvery to a sultry fire:\nNor will thine envious heart allow\nDelight untortured by desire.\n\nThrough thee, the gracious Muses turn,\nTo Furies, O mine Enemy!\nAnd all the things of beauty burn\nWith flames of evil ecstasy.\n\nBecause of thee, the land of dreams\nBecomes a gathering place of fears:\nUntil tormented slumber seems\nOne vehemence of useless tears.\n\nWhen sunlight glows upon the flowers,\nOr ripples down the dancing sea:\nThou, with thy troop of passionate powers,\nBeleaguerest, bewilderest, me.\n\nWithin the breath of autumn woods,\nWithin the winter silences:\nThy venomous spirit stirs and broods,\nO Master of impieties!\n\nThe ardour of red flame is thine,\nAnd thine the steely soul of ice:\nThou poisonest the fair design\nOf nature, with unfair device.\n\nApples of ashes, golden bright;\nWaters of bitterness, how sweet!\nO banquet of a foul delight,\nPrepared by thee, dark Paraclete!\n\nThou art the whisper in the gloom,\nThe hinting tone, the haunting laugh:\nThou art the adorner of my tomb,\nThe minstrel of mine epitaph.\n\nI fight thee, in the Holy Name!\nYet, what thou dost, is what God saith:\nTempter! should I escape thy flame,\nThou wilt have helped my soul from Death:\n\nThe second Death, that never dies,\nThat cannot die, when time is dead:\nLive Death, wherein the lost soul cries,\nEternally uncomforted.\n\nDark Angel, with thine aching lust!\nOf two defeats, of two despairs:\nLess dread, a change to drifting dust,\nThan thine eternity of cares.\n\nDo what thou wilt, thou shalt not so,\nDark Angel! triumph over me:\n_Lonely, unto the Lone I go;\nDivine, to the Divinity._", "metadata": { "language": "English", + "source": { + "title": "Poems", + "type": "book", + "link": "https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/66520/pg66520-images.html", + "published": { + "year": 1895 + } + }, + "time": { + "year": 1893 + }, "tags": [], "context": { "liturgy": "advent" @@ -52042,37 +52137,166 @@ "title": "“The Destroyer of a Soul”", "body": "I hate you with a necessary hate.\nFirst, I sought patience: passionate was she:\nMy patience turned in very scorn of me,\nThat I should dare forgive a sin so great,\nAs this, through which I sit disconsolate;\nMourning for that live soul, I used to see;\nSoul of a saint, whose friend I used to be:\nTill you came by! a cold, corrupting, fate.\n\nWhy come you now? You, whom I cannot cease\nWith pure and perfect hate to hate? Go, ring\nThe death-bell with a deep, triumphant toll!\nSay you, my friend sits by me still? Ah, peace!\nCall you this thing my friend? this nameless thing?\nThis living body, hiding its dead soul?", "metadata": { + "to": "----", "language": "English", + "source": { + "title": "Poems", + "type": "book", + "link": "https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/66520/pg66520-images.html", + "published": { + "year": 1895 + } + }, + "time": { + "year": 1892 + }, "tags": [], "context": { "liturgy": "lent" } } }, + "escape": { + "title": "“Escape”", + "body": "She bared her spirit to her sorrow:\nOn the circling hills the morrow\n Trembled, but it broke not forth:\n Winds blew from the snowy North.\n\n_My soul! my sorrow! What wind bloweth,\nKnows the wayless way, it goeth?\n But before all else, we know\n Death’s way is the way to go._\n\nShe knew no more than that: she only\nKnew, that she was left and lonely.\n Left? But she had loved! And lone?\n She had loved! But love had gone.\n\nSo out into the wintry weather\nSoul and sorrow fled together:\n On the moor day found her dead:\n Snow on hands, and heart, and head.", + "metadata": { + "to": "Charles Weekes", + "language": "English", + "source": { + "title": "Poems", + "type": "book", + "link": "https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/66520/pg66520-images.html", + "published": { + "year": 1895 + } + }, + "time": { + "year": 1888 + }, + "tags": [], + "context": { + "season": "winter" + } + } + }, "a-friend": { "title": "“A Friend”", - "body": "All, that he came to give,\nHe gave, and went again:\nI have seen one man live,\nI have seen one man reign,\nWith all the graces in his train.\n\nAs one of us, he wrought\nThings of the common hour:\nWhence was the charmed soul brought,\nThat gave each act such power;\nThe natural beauty of a flower?\n\nMagnificence and grace,\nExcellent courtesy:\nA brightness on the face,\nAirs of high memory:\nWhence came all these, to such as he?\n\nLike young Shakespearian kings,\nHe won the adoring throng:\nAnd, as Apollo sings,\nHe triumphed with a song:\nTriumphed, and sang, and passed along.\n\nWith a light word, he took\nThe hearts of men in thrall:\nAnd, with a golden look,\nWelcomed them, at his call\nGiving their love, their strength, their all.\n\nNo man less proud than he,\nNor cared for homage less:\nOnly, he could not be\nFar off from happiness:\nNature was bound to his success.\n\nWeary, the cares, the jars,\nThe lets, of every day,\nBut the heavens filled with stars,\nChanced he upon the way:\nAnd where he stayed, all joy would stay.\n\nNow, when sad night draws down,\nWhen the austere stars burn:\nRoaming the vast live town,\nMy thoughts and memories yearn\nToward him, who never will return.\n\nYet have I seen him live,\nAnd owned my friend, a king:\nAll that he came to give\nHe gave: and I, who sing\nHis praise, bring all I have to bring.", + "body": " All, that he came to give,\n He gave, and went again:\n I have seen one man live,\n I have seen one man reign,\nWith all the graces in his train.\n\n As one of us, he wrought\n Things of the common hour:\n Whence was the charmed soul brought,\n That gave each act such power;\nThe natural beauty of a flower?\n\n Magnificence and grace,\n Excellent courtesy:\n A brightness on the face,\n Airs of high memory:\nWhence came all these, to such as he?\n\n Like young Shakespearian kings,\n He won the adoring throng:\n And, as Apollo sings,\n He triumphed with a song:\nTriumphed, and sang, and passed along.\n\n With a light word, he took\n The hearts of men in thrall:\n And, with a golden look,\n Welcomed them, at his call\nGiving their love, their strength, their all.\n\n No man less proud than he,\n Nor cared for homage less:\n Only, he could not be\n Far off from happiness:\nNature was bound to his success.\n\n Weary, the cares, the jars,\n The lets, of every day:\n But the heavens filled with stars,\n Chanced he upon the way:\nAnd where he stayed, all joy would stay.\n\n Now, when sad night draws down,\n When the austere stars burn:\n Roaming the vast live town,\n My thoughts and memories yearn\nToward him, who never will return.\n\n Yet have I seen him live,\n And owned my friend, a king:\n All that he came to give,\n He gave: and I, who sing\nHis praise, bring all I have to bring.", "metadata": { "language": "English", + "source": { + "title": "Poems", + "type": "book", + "link": "https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/66520/pg66520-images.html", + "published": { + "year": 1895 + } + }, + "time": { + "year": 1889 + }, "tags": [], "context": { "holiday": "memorial_day" } } }, + "our-lady-of-the-snows": { + "title": "“Our Lady of the Snows”", + "body": "Far from the world, far from delight,\nDistinguishing not day from night;\nVowed to one sacrifice of all\nThe happy things, that men befall;\nPleading one sacrifice, before\nWhom sun and sea and wind adore;\nFar from earth’s comfort, far away,\nWe cry to God, we cry and pray\nFor men, who have the common day.\nDance, merry world! and sing: but we,\nHearing, remember Calvary:\nGet gold, and thrive you! but the sun\nOnce paled; and the centurion\nSaid: _This dead man was God’s own Son_.\nThink you, we shrink from common toil,\nWorks of the mart, works of the soil;\nThat, prisoners of strong despair,\nWe breathe this melancholy air;\nForgetting the dear calls of race,\nAnd bonds of house, and ties of place;\nThat, cowards, from the field we turn,\nAnd heavenward, in our weakness, yearn?\nUnjust! unkind! while you despise\nOur lonely years, our mournful cries:\nYou are the happier for our prayer;\nThe guerdon of our souls, you share.\nNot in such feebleness of heart,\nWe play our solitary part;\nNot fugitives of battle, we\nHide from the world, and let things be:\nBut rather, looking over earth,\nBetween the bounds of death and birth;\nAnd sad at heart, for sorrow and sin,\nWe wondered, where might help begin.\nAnd on our wonder came God’s choice,\nA sudden light, a clarion voice,\nClearing the dark, and sounding clear:\nAnd we obeyed: behold us, here!\nIn prison bound, but with your chains:\nSufferers, but of alien pains.\nMerry the world, and thrives apace,\nEach in his customary place:\nSailors upon the carrying sea,\nShepherds upon the pasture lea,\nAnd merchants of the town; and they,\nWho march to death, the fighting way;\nAnd there are lovers in the spring,\nWith those, who dance, and those, who sing:\nThe commonwealth of every day.\nEastward and westward, far away.\nOnce the sun paled; once cried aloud\nThe Roman, from beneath the cloud:\n_This day the Son of God is dead!_\nYet heed men, what the Roman said?\nThey heed not: we then heed for them,\nThe mindless of Jerusalem;\nCareless, they live and die: but we\nCare, in their stead, for Calvary.\nO joyous men and women! strong,\nTo urge the wheel of life along,\nWith strenuous arm, and cheerful strain,\nAnd wisdom of laborious brain:\nWe give our life, our heart, our breath,\nThat you may live to conquer death;\nThat, past your tomb, with souls in health,\nJoy may be yours, and blessed wealth;\nThrough vigils of the painful night,\nOur spirits with your tempters fight:\nFor you, for you, we live alone,\nWhere no joy comes, where cold winds moan:\nNor friends have we, nor have we foes;\nOur Queen is of the lonely Snows.\nAh! and sometimes, our prayers between,\nCome sudden thoughts of what hath been:\nDreams! And from dreams, once more we fall\nTo prayer: _God save, Christ keep, them all._\nAnd thou, who knowest not these things,\nHearken, what news our message brings!\nOur toils, thy joy of life forgot:\nOur lives of prayer forget thee not.", + "metadata": { + "language": "English", + "source": { + "title": "Poems", + "type": "book", + "link": "https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/66520/pg66520-images.html", + "published": { + "year": 1895 + } + }, + "time": { + "year": 1887 + }, + "tags": [], + "context": { + "season": "winter" + } + } + }, "the-precept-of-silence": { "title": "“The Precept of Silence”", - "body": "I know you: solitary griefs,\nDesolate passions, aching hours!\nI know you: tremulous beliefs,\nAgonised hopes, and ashen flowers!\n\nThe winds are sometimes sad to me;\nThe starry spaces, full of fear:\nMine is the sorrow on the sea,\nAnd mine the sigh of places drear.\n\nSome players upon plaintive strings\nPublish their wistfulness abroad:\nI have not spoken of these things,\nSave to one man, and unto God.", + "body": "I know you: solitary griefs,\nDesolate passions, aching hours!\nI know you: tremulous beliefs,\nAgonized hopes, and ashen flowers!\n\nThe winds are sometimes sad to me;\nThe starry spaces, full of fear:\nMine is the sorrow on the sea,\nAnd mine the sigh of places drear.\n\nSome players upon plaintive strings\nPublish their wistfulness abroad:\nI have not spoken of these things,\nSave to one man, and unto God.", + "metadata": { + "language": "English", + "source": { + "title": "Poems", + "type": "book", + "link": "https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/66520/pg66520-images.html", + "published": { + "year": 1895 + } + }, + "time": { + "year": 1893 + }, + "tags": [] + } + }, + "renegade": { + "title": "“Renegade”", + "body": "But all that now is over.\nDreamers of dreams shall not in me discover\nFallen remembrances of Holy Land;\nLooks in mine eyes, that seem to understand\nA banished secret; in my common mien,\nA charmed communion with high things unseen\n\n For all that now is over.\nMere merchant of earth’s market-place, no lover,\nI keep the dusty, trodden road of all.\nThough broken echoes fill the mart, and call\nBack to my silent memories: down chill air\nThey die away, and leave me to my care.\n\n Since all that now is over,\nAnd not at any cost can I recover\nThe abdicated throne, the abandoned crown:\nI sit me at the heart of the vast town,\nTo wear old love looks down to the dull look,\nBefitting love unthought on, or forsook.", + "metadata": { + "to": "Arthur Chamberlain", + "language": "English", + "source": { + "title": "Poems", + "type": "book", + "link": "https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/66520/pg66520-images.html", + "published": { + "year": 1895 + } + }, + "time": { + "year": 1887 + }, + "tags": [] + } + }, + "to-a-traveller": { + "title": "“To a Traveller”", + "body": "The mountains, and the lonely death at last\nUpon the lonely mountains: O strong friend!\nThe wandering over, and the labour passed,\n Thou art indeed at rest:\n Earth gave thee of her best,\n That labour and this end.\n\nEarth was thy mother, and her true son thou:\nEarth called thee to a knowledge of her ways,\nUpon the great hills, up the great streams: now\n Upon earth’s kindly breast\n Thou art indeed at rest:\n Thou, and thine arduous days.\n\nFare thee well, O strong heart! The tranquil night\nLooks calmly on thee: and the sun pours down\nHis glory over thee, O heart of might!\n Earth gives thee perfect rest:\n Earth, whom thy swift feet pressed:\n Earth, whom the vast stars crown.", "metadata": { "language": "English", + "source": { + "title": "Poems", + "type": "book", + "link": "https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/66520/pg66520-images.html", + "published": { + "year": 1895 + } + }, + "time": { + "year": 1889 + }, "tags": [] } }, "to-morfydd": { "title": "“To Morfydd”", - "body": "A voice on the winds,\nA voice by the waters,\nWanders and cries:\nOh! what are the winds?\nAnd what are the waters?\nMine are your eyes!\n\nWestern the winds are,\nAnd western the waters,\nWhere the light lies:\nOh! what are the winds?\nAnd what are the waters?\nMine are your eyes!\n\nCold, cold grow the winds,\nAnd wild grow the waters,\nWhere the sun dies:\nOh! what are the winds?\nAnd what are the waters?\nMine are your eyes!\n\nAnd down the night winds,\nAnd down the night waters,\nThe music flies:\nOh! what are the winds?\nAnd what are the waters?\nCold be the winds,\nAnd wild be the waters,\nSo mine be your eyes!", + "body": "A voice on the winds,\nA voice by the waters,\nWanders and cries:\n_Oh! what are the winds?\nAnd what are the waters?\nMine are your eyes!_\n\nWestern the winds are,\nAnd western the waters,\nWhere the light lies:\n_Oh! what are the winds?\nAnd what are the waters?\nMine are your eyes!_\n\nCold, cold, grow the winds,\nAnd wild grow the waters,\nWhere the sun dies:\n_Oh! what are the winds?\nAnd what are the waters?\nMine are your eyes!_\n\nAnd down the night winds,\nAnd down the night waters,\nThe music flies:\n_Oh! what are the winds?\nAnd what are the waters?\nCold be the winds,\nAnd wild be the waters,\nSo mine be your eyes!_", "metadata": { "language": "English", + "source": { + "title": "Poems", + "type": "book", + "link": "https://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/66520/pg66520-images.html", + "published": { + "year": 1895 + } + }, + "time": { + "year": 1891 + }, "tags": [], "context": { "liturgy": "advent" @@ -67834,7 +68058,7 @@ }, "the-fool": { "title": "“The Fool”", - "body": "A shout of laughter and of scorn,\n A million jeering lips and eyes--\nAnd in the sight of all men born\n The wildest of earth’s madmen dies!\n\nWhose trust was put in empty words\n To-day is numbered with the dead;\nTo-morrow crows and evil birds\n Shall pluck those strange eyes from his head!\n\nThe fellows of this country clown\n Are scattered (fool beyond belief!),\nAll blown away like thistledown,\n Except a harlot and a thief.\n\nAnd shall he shatter fates with _these_?\n (He that would neither strive nor cry)\nOr thunder through the Seven Seas?\n Or shake the stars down from the sky?\n\nHave mercy and humility\n Become unconquerable swords,\nThat Caiaphas must tremblingly\n Kneel with the world’s imperial lords\nBefore this crazy carpenter--\n This body writhing on a rod--\nAnd worship in that bloody hair\n The dreadful foolishness of God?\n\nA shout of laughter and of scorn,\n A million jeering lips and eyes--\nAnd in the sight of all men born\n The wildest of earth’s madmen dies!", + "body": "A shout of laughter and of scorn,\n A million jeering lips and eyes--\nAnd in the sight of all men born\n The wildest of earth’s madmen dies!\n\nWhose trust was put in empty words\n To-day is numbered with the dead;\nTo-morrow crows and evil birds\n Shall pluck those strange eyes from his head!\n\nThe fellows of this country clown\n Are scattered (fool beyond belief!),\nAll blown away like thistledown,\n Except a harlot and a thief.\n\nAnd shall he shatter fates with _these_?\n (He that would neither strive nor cry)\nOr thunder through the Seven Seas?\n Or shake the stars down from the sky?\n\nHave mercy and humility\n Become unconquerable swords,\nThat Caiaphas must tremblingly\n Kneel with the world’s imperial lords\n\nBefore this crazy carpenter--\n This body writhing on a rod--\nAnd worship in that bloody hair\n The dreadful foolishness of God?\n\nA shout of laughter and of scorn,\n A million jeering lips and eyes--\nAnd in the sight of all men born\n The wildest of earth’s madmen dies!", "metadata": { "language": "English", "tags": [] @@ -74296,14 +74520,6 @@ "holiday": "christmas_day" } } - }, - "when-i-consider-how-my-light-is-spent": { - "title": "“When I Consider How My Light is Spent”", - "body": "When I consider how my light is spent,\nEre half my days, in this dark world and wide,\nAnd that one Talent which is death to hide\nLodged with me useless, though my Soul more bent\nTo serve therewith my Maker, and present\nMy true account, lest he returning chide;\n“Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”\nI fondly ask. But patience, to prevent\nThat murmur, soon replies, “God doth not need\nEither man’s work or his own gifts; who best\nBear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state\nIs Kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed\nAnd post o’er Land and Ocean without rest:\nThey also serve who only stand and wait.”", - "metadata": { - "language": "English", - "tags": [] - } } } }, @@ -120277,9 +120493,9 @@ } } }, - "the-four-ueag-old": { - "title": "“The four-уеаг old …”", - "body": "The four-уеаг old,\nEyes icy cold,\nEyebrows, fated already…\nToday for the first time\nYou see the ice-floe\nFrom the Kremlin heights;\nLook below.\n\nThe ice-floe, ice-floe\nAnd cupolas.\nRinging of gold, gold\nAnd silvery tone.\nWith your arms crossed so,\nMouth still.\nEyebrows knitted…--Napoleon,\nYou study Kremlin hill.\n\n‘Mama--where does the ice go?’\n‘Forward--little swan,\nPast churches, and palaces, gates below,\nForward, little swan.’\nLovely\nBlue eyes now worry:\n‘O Marina, you love me?’\n‘Surely.’\n‘For always?’\n‘Yes.’\n\nSunset--and then\nSoon home--again.\nAnd you to the nursery, me--\nMe, I shall read--rude letters.\nAnd bite lips--so…\n\nAnd the ice-floe\nStill\nMoves below.", + "the-four-year-old": { + "title": "“The four-year-old …”", + "body": "The four-уеаг old,\nEyes icy cold,\nEyebrows, fated already …\nToday for the first time\nYou see the ice-floe\nFrom the Kremlin heights;\nLook below.\n\nThe ice-floe, ice-floe\nAnd cupolas.\nRinging of gold, gold\nAnd silvery tone.\nWith your arms crossed so,\nMouth still.\nEyebrows knitted…--Napoleon,\nYou study Kremlin hill.\n\n‘Mama--where does the ice go?’\n‘Forward--little swan,\nPast churches, and palaces, gates below,\nForward, little swan.’\nLovely\nBlue eyes now worry:\n‘O Marina, you love me?’\n‘Surely.’\n‘For always?’\n‘Yes.’\n\nSunset--and then\nSoon home--again.\nAnd you to the nursery, me--\nMe, I shall read--rude letters.\nAnd bite lips--so…\n\nAnd the ice-floe\nStill\nMoves below.", "metadata": { "language": "Russian", "time": { @@ -129042,20 +129258,35 @@ "name": "Yvor Winters", "birth": { "date": { - "year": 1900 + "year": 1900, + "month": "october", + "day": 17 + }, + "place": { + "city": "Chicago", + "state": "Illinois", + "country": "USA" } }, "death": { "date": { - "year": 1968 + "year": 1968, + "month": "january", + "day": 25 } }, "gender": "male", "occupation": [ "poet" ], - "education": null, - "movement": [], + "education": { + "bachelors": "University of Colorado", + "masters": "University of Colorado", + "doctorate": "University of Chicago" + }, + "movement": [ + "Modernism" + ], "religion": null, "nationality": [ "united-states" @@ -129063,11 +129294,12 @@ "language": [ "English" ], - "link": "https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/José_García_Villa", + "link": "https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yvor_Winters", "favorite": false, "tags": [ "American", - "English" + "English", + "Modernism" ] }, "poems": { diff --git a/scripts/send-poem.py b/scripts/send-poem.py index 3d29ec2..2249db5 100644 --- a/scripts/send-poem.py +++ b/scripts/send-poem.py @@ -47,7 +47,7 @@ for index, entry in listserv.iterrows(): t = threading.Thread(target=utils.email_thread, kwargs={**thread_kwargs, "recipient": entry.email}) t.start() - ttime.sleep(1e0) + ttime.sleep(5e-1) if args.write_to_repo: