id	author	title	date	pages	extension	mime	words	sentences	flesch	summary	cache	txt
chapter-113		chapter-113			.txt	text/plain	341	24	89	France [the 18th Year of these States A great year and place I walkd the shores of my Eastern sea, Heard over the waves the little voice, Saw the divine infant where she woke mournfully wailing, amid the Was not so sick from the blood in the gutters running, nor from the single Pale, silent, stern, what could I say to that long-accrued retribution? Could I wish humanity different? Could I wish the people made of wood and stone? Here too, though long represt, can never be destroyd, Hence I sign this salute over the sea, But remember the little voice that I heard wailing, and wait with perfect trust, no matter how long, And I send these words to Paris with my love, And I guess some chansonniers there will understand them, For I guess there is latent music yet in France, floods of it, I will run transpose it in words, to justify	./cache/chapter-113.txt	./txt/chapter-113.txt