work_id,theme,provenance,created_at,text,reviewed_on,id,comments,metaphor,dictionary,updated_at,context
4235,"","Searching ""mind"" and ""crowd in HDIS (Poetry)",2006-03-07 00:00:00 UTC,"Whilst Our dear Soldier in th'Iberian Fields
The Noble Harvest reaps, that Honour yields;
The Muse salutes Thee, (she that saw from far
Thy coming Glories,) Future Hope of War.
What may not growing Tyrants dread from thee,
Thou early Champion of true Liberty?
When at the Head of Armies Thou shalt show,
What thou hast learnt under Great Marlborough;
Marlbrô, whose Fame thro' the wide Globe has flown,
And every Country fill'd, except his Own.
If midst of Thoughts that crowd into thy Mind,
The Care of absent Friends a Place can find,
Retire a while from Warlike Noise and Throng
Into thy inmost Tent, and listen to my Song.",,11022,•I've included twice: Crowd and Tent,"""If midst of Thoughts that crowd into thy Mind, / The Care of absent Friends a Place can find, / Retire a while from Warlike Noise and Throng / Into thy inmost Tent, and listen to my Song.""",Inhabitants,2009-09-14 19:35:29 UTC,""
4790,"",Reading,2009-09-14 19:37:18 UTC,"Memory, a Poem
In what recesses of the brain
Does this amazing power remain,
By which all knowledge we attain?
What art thou, Memory? What tongue can tell,
What curious artist trace thy hidden cell,
Wherein ten thousand different objects dwell?
Surprising storehouse! in whose narrow womb
All things, the past, the present, and to come,
Find ample space, and large and mighty room.
O falsely deemed the foe of sacred wit!
Thou, who the nurse and guardian art of it,
Laying it up till season due and fit.
Then proud the wond'rous treasure to produce,
As understanding points it, to conduce
Either to entertainment, or to use.
Nor love nor holy friendship, without thee,
Could ever of the least duration be;
Nor gratitude, nor turht, nor piety/
Where thou art not, the cheerless human mind
Is one vast void, all darksome, sad, and blind;
No trace of anything remains behind.
The sacred stores of learning all are thine;
'Tis only thou record'st the faithful line;
'Tis thou mak'st human-kind almost divine.
And when at length we quit this mortal scene,
Thou shalt with our tender friends remain,
And time and death shall strike at thee in vain.
Lord let me so this wond'rous gift employ,
It may a fountain be of endless joy,
Which time, or accident, may ne'er destroy.
Still let my faithful Memory impart,
And deep engrave it on my grateful heart,
How just, and good, and excellent Thou art.
(p. 138-9)",2003-10-22,12711,I've copied the whole poem in this record because it is chock-full of figures of mind.,"""O falsely deemed the foe of sacred wit! / Thou [Memory], who the nurse and guardian art of it, / Laying it up till season due and fit.""",Inhabitants,2012-01-12 20:09:56 UTC,""