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If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: A Life's Story, In Poetry - Other Poems - -Author: Dennison Woodcock - -Release Date: August 18, 2021 [eBook #66080] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Elizabeth Dejean - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LIFE'S STORY, IN POETRY *** -A Life's Story and Other Poems -By Dennison Woodcock - -A Life's Story, -In Poetry. - -Other Poems - - -By Dennison Woodcock -Wrights, Penna - -Written at -The Age of Ninety One. - - -Chas. O. Laymon, Printer, -Port Allegany, Penna. -1908 - - -A LIFE'S STORY -From One to Ninety-One - -(By Dennison Woodcock) - -Borne down by weight of ninety years - My limbs have weaker grown; -'Mid joy and grief, 'mid smiles and tears - How quick the years have flown. -I look 'way back, a distant view, - To years of long ago. -I asked my brother if he knew - What caused the winds to blow. - -My brother answered me with ease, - As if prepared to know; -It is those slim and lofty trees - That make the wind to blow. -I looked and saw the lofty pines - Waving to and fro; -They were full proof within my mind - They were what made it blow. - -When I felt the chilling breeze, - The snowflakes whizzing round; -I felt a grudge against those trees. - And wished they were cut down. -But a wee bit of a child - Knew naught of nature's laws; -My mind was often running wild - And took effect for cause. - -Saw water gushing from a mill, - Heard a fluttering sound; -As we went riding up the hill, - The saw went up and down. -It remained a mystery still, - The thing I could not know; -How water running through a mill - Could make the saw to go. - -A bush had lopped into a stream, - Was bobbing up and down; -I thought that I had solved the theme - The truth there I had found. -I went and fixed a limber stick, - A saw attached also; -It run on water from the creek, - The saw it would not go. - -I went there to recruit my skill, - Saw pitman, crank and wheel; -Then I went home and built a mill, - With saw of tempered steel. -When I built that little mill - I something more than played; -It helped to point mechanic skill. - It helped to learn a trade. - -To Boston went to learn a trade, - It was the iron founder's, -Many patterns there I made, - And learned to use the pounders. -Pattern-making was a trade, - Was often in demand; -When I wished a casting made, - The shape it came to hand. - -When I was fifteen years of age - I started for the west; -Sometimes I rode upon the stage, - Sometimes got off to rest. -When I came to Clinton's Ditch - I went on board a boat; -My mind was raised to highest pitch. - So many things to note. - -A query how two boats could pass, - With lines from boat to shore; -The horses stopped, the line it sunk, - The boat went passing o'er. -It was a mystery to me, - How boats went through the locks: -But then I soon began to see, - When in between the rocks. - -The boat was run into the lock, - The gates were closed below; -The boat it bumped against the rock, - Water began to flow. -Soon that spacious flume was full. - The gates above were swung; -The hoses then began to pull, - The boat it moved along. - -We ate and drank within the boat, - Was seeming much like home; -We passing many towns of note, - Looking for more to come. -No railroads running then that way. - No, none in all the land; -Riding sixty miles a day - Was then thought something grand. - -Rochester, near Sandy Ridge, - Where roaring falls there be, -Canal it crosses on a bridge, - Across the Genessee. -In a race the water ran, - The falls so high and steep; -Where Sammy Patch, that foolish man - There made his fatal leap. - -I left the boat and took to land, - A trip of eighty miles; -Where my friends had made a stand - Far in the Western wilds. -Now the West has taken flight - Three thousand miles or more; -Thru valleys bright, o'er mount'ns high - Unto the western shore. - -For a shop I built a shed - And covered it with bark; -I worked until the day had fled, - From morning until dark. -I built for me a turning lathe, - Made bedsteads, tables, chairs; -I built a bureau for my ma - And sometimes did repairs. - -I found plenty of work to do - To keep me from all harm, -And when my father wanted me - I helped him on the farm. -A seventeen laid out a frame, - A building for a school; -Where a youth might learn to read - If he was not a fool. - -When I was eighteen years of age, - Somewhat inclined to roam; -Then I unto old Swanzey went, - My old and native home. -The same good man was teaching there -I visited the district school - Saw those I used to know; - that taught me year ago. - -To Athol factory I went, - Was looking for employ; -'Twas by good luck there I was sent, - For I was just the boy. -We had a first-rate boarding place, - It was a lucky chance; -The factory girls were boarding there - We often had a dance. - -Five long months we labored there, - Till finished was the task; -When I went to draw my pay - They paid more than I asked. -I worked on houses, barns and mill, - And helped to build a church; -'Twa long I work'd and labored there, - Refrained from spending much. - -I of old Swanzey took a view, - Her rivers, brooks and fountains; -Bid old Monadnock last adieu - From top of the Green Mountains. -My father needed all I earned - In payment on his land; -Huge piles of timber there he burned - to get it off his hand. - -Still kept working for my father, - A revenue to bring, -Making buckets in the winter - And sugar in the spring. -So we made a pile of sugar, - Enough to sweeten many throats; -Helping Nathan log a fallow, - To sow a field of oats. - -I worked at different kinds of work, - I worked at making chairs, -And I also made two cutters, - And sometimes did repairs. -When twenty-two in Hallsport bought - A lot, 'twas rough and new; -To me an interesting spot, - So pleasing to my view. - -A limpid stream was running there, - 'Till make machinery whirl; -Here I'll build a dwelling fair - For that prospective girl. -I from there to Whitesville went, - Worked for Joseph Cory; -A house for Matthew Wilson built, - Here I'll tell a story. - -He had a daughter young and fair, - Just budding into bloom; -She was a lively helper there, - The sunshine of her home. -I felt my heartstrings give a start, - They snapped like burning twine; -And so she stole away my heart - And gave me hers for mine. - -So Colonel Matthew Wilson, 'Squire, - Gave me a loving bride; -New life's vicissitudes to share, - A helpmeet by my side. -Worked forty days to buy two stoves - To warm our little fold; -To boil potatoes, bake our loaves, - And drive away the cold. - -I undertook to build a house, - Was often gee's and haw'd; -The season it was very dry, - My logs they were not sawed. -No circular mills in that day - Were run by water's flow, -The upright saw went "yerk te yerk" - As Paddie's toad did go. - -I built a shanty snug and warm, - It was inside the frame; -It shielded us from cold and storm - And from the snow and rain. -When the spring and summer came - And my logs were sawed; -'Twas then that I enclosed the frame, - Had rooms more long and broad. - -The upper rooms a dwelling were, - The lower room a shop; -There I made machinery purr, - Could make it go or stop. -A Western fever seized my brain, - It was in forty-four; -So we wandered south and west - Three thousand miles or more. - -We did not find that favored spot. - That o'er productive soil; -Where peace and plenty was our lot, - And pleasures banished toil. -So we came home and went to work. - It strengthens limb and wind; -The idleness of lazy shirk - Will prove a constant grind. - -Built a machine for turning bowls, - It turned them smooth and round; -It seemed to prove a turning point, - It turned me out of town. -For bowl timber grew very scarce, - Hard work finding any; -So we left our Hallsport home - For wilds of Pennsylvania. - -And so we built us there a shop, - Brother Nathan and I, -And there we climb'd the mout'n top, - Whose summits pierced the sky. -We cut down trees and sawed of blocks, - And made them nearly round. -And then we cleared away a path - And saw them rolling down. - -Typhoid fever siezed my wife, - My brother lost a child; -So trouble seemed to hedge us round - Here in the forest wild. -Our dear mother came to see us, - Here she took sick and died; -It seem'd that fate was bound to treens - At length we stemmed the tide. - -He thought he saw a greater charm - On Alleghany's hill, -With cows and horses on a farm, - The fruitful soil to till. -And so I bought my brother out - And ran the work alone, -Was in my prime then, strong and stout, - I much hard work have done. - -And so my neighbors bro't the blocks, - The turning I would do; -With skill and labor earned the rocks - And helped my neighbors too. -I built for me a larger shop - With greater water power; -It served to make machinery hop - Almost every hour. - -We bought a new carding machine, - David Wilson and I; -It showed I was not very keen, - The business had gone by. -They sold their wool to ship away, - Came back already made; -If you hire a maid today - A greater price is paid. - -Other machinery in the shop - Employed my time in full; -So I could make my business whop - Without the aid of wool. -My shop was helping me to build, - In paying for my land; -Was helping be to buy my bread, - A helper still in hand. - -My wife and I we built a house, - We made it snug and warm; -To shield us from the chilling blast - And from the pelting storm. -We realized a long desire; - But ah! A blighting joke, -My shop was wrapped in flaming fire - And all went up in smoke. - -The burning shop it knocked me out. - Gave me a sideway toss; -Was on the down-hill side of life. - Could not retrieve my loss. -I then worked out at hard days work - On houses, barns and mill, -All to supply our needed wants, - Our stomachs to keep still. - -They built the railroad here at last, - After much surveying, -So they cheaply rushed it past - After much delaying. -It caused the lumberman to hump - And low the hemlocks laid, -And left us nothing but the stump - Of sombre hemlock shade. - -They laid bare the lofty hills, - And the valleys also; -They rushed the logs into the mill, - From there away they go; -I built for me another shop - With lathes and a buzz-saw; -'Twas there I worked ant mending sleds - The hemlock logs to draw. - -In the spring when sledding flees, - Still worked to earn the rocks; -I neckyokes turned and whiffletrees, - And also lever stocks. -Lumbermen gone, the farmer comes, - He works with care and toil; -He burns the brush, blows out the stumps, - Draws money from the soil. - -He crowds the forest up the hill, - It yields to his desire; -He makes his pastures broader still, - All with the help of fire. -At the little hamlet Wrights, - The farmers come to get their mail. -And to buy at prices right - The many things for sale. - -Where once I heard the wild bird sing, - In forest dark and drear, -Now I hear the church bells ring - In tones so loud and clear. -While the lumber wagon ploughing - Through mud holes deep and wide, -Now merry parties for an outing, - In automobiles glide. - -Now I'll turn back on memory's page - And note things of my time; -The uplifting of the age, - And evolution's climb. -The Erie Canal was building - When I was three years old; -Unnumbered boats it has floated - And brought in piles of toll. - -A barge canal they are building, - State of New York is growing rich; -Compared with the new the old one - Was but a little ditch. -Then th' next thing comes th' railroad. - Of almost boundless worth; -Its iron bands are now reaching - Almost around the earth. - -They have tunnel'd the lofty mount'ns - Clear through from side to side; -And bridged the gushing fountains, - That trains may smoothly glide. -The north unto the south are bound, - And gridironed all the land, -From the Missouri's turbid mouth - To Lake Superior's sand. - -The telephone and telegraph, - They give a rising start; -Are helping people talk and laugh - A hundred miles apart. -With lightning speed th' news is hurl'd - On many wires is sped; -Yesterday's news from all the world - In morning papers read. - -Then came the mower and the reaper, - The farmer's great delight, -Have driven the scythe and the sickle - Almost away from sight. -With the help of machinery, - Much of his work is done; -With help of steam and good horse power - Machinery is run. - -Agricultural colleges - In almost every state; -They are lifting up the farmers - From a low drudging fate. -They've tapped the earth for oil and gas - Houses to light and warm; -That cheerfulness may reign within, - While outside howls the storm. - -Then came the Wheeler and the Singer - Others that worked complete; -Helps the woman's tired fingers - While sewing with her feet. -The type-setter, wonderful thing, - New one, under the sun; -Whole lines it will together fling, - From melted metal run. - -I am here with loving friends, - Kind neighbors all around; -I wait to see what will turn up - Until I am turned down. - - -DIADAMA -(Dennison Woodcock) -Diadama, Diadama - Precious name so dear to me; -No other girl in Allegany - Thrills my loving heart like thee. -Fairer than the blushing flowers - Gentle as the turtle dove, -Bear me on ye heavenly powers - To the bosom of my love. - -Thus sang a youth by love invaded, - Who felt the sting of Cupid's dart; -In riper years his boy-love faded, - He sought not to win her heart. -In memory lingers every feature, - Fair as in the days of yore, -Yet he knows that once loved creature - Mortal eyes can see no more. - -In the giddy dance they mingle, - As in years so long gone by; -How it makes his heart strings tingle - When he meets her smiling eye. -In the schoolroom he is with her, - Learning lessons by her side, -Often wondering if ever - She will be his loving bride. - -That face, alas! He'll see it never, - Those ruby lips no longer red, -Those sparkling eyes are closed forever, - And every pleasing charm has fled. -Soon the memory and remembered, - Although once in youthful prime -Will no longer make a riffle - On the ceaseless tide of time. - - -TO LEONA -She gave me a fresh and blooming rosy, - Little maiden fair to see; -Fairer than the blushing posy - Dear Leona gave to me. - -An inward radiance impart - Virtue and truth combine; -Let an honest, faithful heart - With outside beauty shine. - - -JESSIE BY THE FOUNTAIN - -(Dennison Woodcock) - - -Jessie by the fountain stood - With pitcher in her hand; -She dipped it in the crystal flood - And gave each thirsty man -Who from the hay fields gathered there, - And standing near the brink, -From a gentle hand so fair - Received the cooling drink. - -A smile of joy was in her eye, - A consciousness of good; -She felt a blessing from on high, - Approval of her God. -Water pure is all they need - To drive their thirst away; -So again they all proceed - To work amid the hay. - -Then drink of water pure and clear, - From stimulants refrain, -'Twill not with business interfere - Or cause a muddled brain. -Another stands behind the bar, - Rather out of place; -A seared conscience seems to mar - The beauty of her face. - -She cares not for children's woes - Or anxious mother's need; -While money to her coffer goes - To gratify her greed. -Men go there their thirst to check - With brandy, rum and gin; -She throws a halter round their necks - Which drags them there again. - -Their money gone and senses too, - More thirsty than before; -What do these foolish mortals do - But beg and plead for more. -They stagger out into the street, - With curses on their tongue, -With palsied hands and tangled feet, - A sight for old and young. - -Which one is a source of pride - And which a social scar, -Jessie by the fountain side, - Or Greed behind the bar? - - -DEHEWAMIS - -(Dennison Woodcock) - - -Some Senecas once went away - In search of food and game; -They wandered on from day to day, - To little Toby came. -An Indian maiden blithe and gay - Was one among the throng; -Who often cheered them on their way - With loving words and song. - -She trod as lightly as the fawn; - Her song the hours beguiled; -Her voice was heard at early dawn - Through the green forest wild. -Her song of joy is hushed and gone, - Nor echoes through the glade; -For death has placed his mark upon - That sprightly Indian maid. - -A mother's joy, a father's pride, - They could not save their child; -So the Indian maiden died - Far in the forest wild. -They would not leave her body there, - So far from home away; -But bore it with a zealous care, - Many a weary day. - -Come to a spring that met the stream - That passed their happy home; -Buried her by the moonlight gleam - Beneath the starry dome. -They often came to view the spot - Where Dehewamis lay; -Till father, mother, sister, brother, - All had passed away. - -The water gushes from the spring, - The lofty maples wave; -The summer birds their carols sing - O'er her lonely grave. - - -THE RUMSELLER'S SOLILOQUY - -I had rum, and gin, and brandy - All made of whiskey, too, -And all arranged so handy - To tempt their thirsty view. -Oh! no they need not talk it, - Those were happy times. -With hand in drunkard's pocket - Hauling out the dimes. - -Was I starving others? - Then so let it be; -Those children and the mothers - Did not belong to me. -While lying in the gutter, - A mother's loving son, -Conscience began to mutter - At the deed I'd done. - -Then came this consolation - Just in the nick of time; -The law of state and nation - Had legalized the crime. -For I had got my license, - Had paid my license fee; -So the squeemish nonsense - Had no effect on me. - -The brewers of the nation - To the constitution go, -To save their occupation - From the prohibition blow, -Wonder if the constitution - Would reinstate me here; -Defend me from invasion - While selling rum and beer. - -For temperance is booming, - My license now is dead, -And poverty is coming, - My children cry for bread. -Gambling I've been trying - But could not stand the test; -With all my cheat and lying - I came out second best. - -I wish I'd stuck to labor, - Earned my bread by honest toil, -Like my hale and happy neighbor - Who ploughs and tills the soil. -My flesh is made of lager, - My muscles weak and lax; -I cannot turn the auger, - Swing the hammer or the ax. - -My children's cries so wounding, - My heart with anguish torn; -My troubles so confounding, - I wish I'd not been born. -The thread of life I'd sever - And lay myself to rest; -But thoughts of the forever - Send trouble to my breast. - -Should I meet with retribution - Beyond the bounds of time, -Neither law nor constitution - Would legalize the crime. - - -WRIGHTS -(Dennison Woodcock) - -Among the spurs of Allegheny - Lofty hills with wooded heights, -Nestled in the Portage Valley - Is the little hamlet Wrights. -Hamilton and Portage Valley - By right angles, here unite; -Both together make a fairly - Good and level village site. - -Limpid streams unto the river - On their way go babbling by; -While the silvery pools, they mirror - Cloudlets floating in the sky. -Growing grain and verdant meadows, - Fields of corn, silos to fill; -Winding streams and waving willows - Orchards on the sloping hill. - -Cattle grazing in the pasture - On the hillside fresh and green, -With their coats of silky luster, - Many goats and kids are seen. -There's the schoolhouse at the corner, - Quiet order there appears, -Where the earnest studious learners - Are prepared for future years. - -There's the church with lofty steeple, - And the old bell hanging there, -Often rings to call the people - To their sermon, praise and prayer. -Another church they are building, - The foundation they have laid; -May the golden truth be gilding - All the words that there are said. - -On the switch the cars are loaded - With potatoes, grain and hay, -So the farmers are commoded - As they ship their goods away. -Hark! we hear the train a-rumbling. - People waiting for a ride; -Four times a day the mail is coming, - All aboard! Away they glide. - -There's the store nearby the railroad, - Business humming every day; -Goods are brought there by the carload - Many teams draw them away. -Another store where the farmer - Buys the tools that he may need; -From a reaper to a hammer, - Groceries with feed and seed. - -The factory where they make the cheeses, - Great round cheeses, just the thing -What the most the patron pleases - Is the cash the cheeses bring. -Here the honest, frugal farmers - With the help of care and toil, -Bringing wealth into their garners, - Drawing money from the soil. -Smiles play on the the neighbors' faces, - Accent of fraternal love, -While at many times and places, -Kindly deeds their friendship prove. - - -CAUTION TO BOYS, or THE SILLY FLY -There was a very silly fly - Buzzing low, then flying high; -Down on paper smooth and fair - Saw some flies were sticking there. -"Those flies must be very weak, - On that paper there to stick.. -If I was there I would not stay, - I would rise and fly away." - -He lit down on the paper's side, - Flew a circle large and wide, -He thought to give a parting kick, - Found at last the stuff would stick. -He struggled hard to get away, - Found that he was doomed to stay; -'Twas there he sung a doleful lay - Until life had passed away. - -A smart young lad would oft repair - Where the smokers gathered there; -Says "I will show you that I can - Smoke as well as any man." -His smoking made him rather sick; - Hove his breakfast very quick; -He smoked a little every day, - Learned to smoke as well as they. - -Thought he could quit at any time, - With his feelings in their prime; -Refrained from smoking all one day, - Things were looking dark and gray, -Those saucy imps they at me stare, - Trouble meets me everywhere, -Conscience whetted to an edge - By promises on memory's page. - -Those broken pledges at me stare, - Fiends are floating in the air; -The Devil's got me in his gripe. - "Give me, give me back my pipe!" -He, like all others of his stripe, - Lifelong slave unto his pipe, -And like the little, silly fly - Doomed to stick until they die. - - -THE RUINED HOME. - -Behold that house on Pleasant street, - Just let us enter there; -All arrangements so complete, - Appropriate and fair. -Music in Adjoining room - So grateful to the ear; -Fragrant flowers in fullest bloom - And beauty doth appear. - -Choice books there on the table lie, - Wisdom for great and small; -The pantry with its full supply; - There're pictures on the wall. -The father comes at closing day, - The mother greets with joy, -The laughing children 'round him play - He pets his toddling boy. - -Peace pervades that happy place, - Where all is bright and free; -Its loving inmates go and come, - In sweetest harmony. -Grief has blighted that fair bloom, - The work of cursed rum, -The fetid breath of the saloon - Has to that dwelling come. - -A thump is heard against the door, - The children flee away; -They wish to see his face no more - While whiskey rules the day. -The faithful wife opens the door, - The husband staggers in, -He stumbles prostrate on the floor, - Borne down by rum and gin. - -While helping him unto his bed-- - Oh! who could tell us why-- -He clenched his fist and struck her head - And gave a blackened eye. -His bank deposits slip away - To the rumsellers till, -Whose business is from day to day - The drunkards' graves to fill - -Piano gone by sheriff's sale, - The music hushed and still; -The mother's sigh, the daughter's wail - Now the apartments fill. -The pictures gone from off the wall, - The carpets from the floor, -To meet necessity's stern call, - Keep hunger from the door. - -The daughter's jewels all are gone - Unto the broker's fled; -Her choicest clothing one by one, - To buy their daily bread. -Vultures in human form await - To make this maid their game -Should hunger, want and cruel fate - Crowd out all sense of shame. - -Oh! this horrid ghastly wound, - The work of cursed rum; -Oh! can a healing balm be foundation - This side the world to come. - - -IN FAVOR of WOMAN'S SUFFRAGE -Our fathers thought it was a cause - Well worth their undertaking. -To fight those arbitrary laws - They had no hand in making. -The principle they now ignore, - Since we have been a nation; -Taxing women o'er and o'er, - Debarred from legislation. - -Great Britain thought we would not fight - Or dare to show resistance; -They looked to might to make it right - With justice at a distance. -Woman in the background held, - Her soul for wisdom yearning -While her loving heart has swelled - With a desire for learning. - -You shall not vote the men declare, - Ye daughters and your mothers. -Then go and set a hellish snare - To trap their sons and brothers. -Because the women do not fight - Use the sword or rifle -Is relegated out of sight - As a useless trifle. - -The whiskey ring, her greatest foe - Oft blocks her aspirations; -It dares not let her vote we know - 'Twould send it from the nation. -The colleges excluded her; - With minds of small dimension, -They tho't their lofty teachings were - Beyond her comprehension. - -The sword of might can't make it right, - The woman's pen is stronger. -Her tongue and pen will tame their might, - They can't hold our much longer. -She is keeping steady pace - with aspiring brothers, -Winning for herself a place - Among D. D's and others. -Soon her voice will resound - In halls of legislation, -Then love and justice will abound - To purify the nation. - - -CHRISTMAS - -My many friends both large and small - A merry Christmas to you all; -We met to point, a scene we know, - Transpiring many years ago. -On the blest morning bright and fair, - Glad angels singing in the air; -Good will to men this glorious morn - We sing to all a saviour born. - -With gratefulness the song prolong, - And echo back the angels' song; -With love to God, good will to men, - We gladly sing the song again. -Although His advent here on earth - It was a meek and lowly birth. -His matchless wisdom still will shine - Adown the ceaseless years of time. - -We celebrate the best we can - Kind Heaven's greatest gift to man, -In mem'ry of this gift of heaven, - These many gifts are to be given. -God showed his love to everyone - By giving us his only son, -Let grateful thoughts our glad hearts move, - And celebrate God's precious love. - -And let love glow in every heart. - A genial radiance impart; -Make us a heaven here below, - A taste of joy the angels know. -There is no fairer scene on earth, - Than days that mark our Saviour's birth; -The yearly blossoming of love, - While through the holidays we move. - -Old and new year, met together, - One with memories, hope in the other; -Reach as we will there sure will come - A ray of joy or cloud of gloom. -The choice is as we may desire, - Can stand on mount or sink in mire; -None can look back on passing year - Not seeing good if he's sincere. - -All years are good in heaven's sight, - If we but see them all aright, -So keep a watch and do good deeds, - Chance will come as time proceeds. -Let the old man on nature 'pringe, - Open his door on rusty hinge, -Look on the trees, the fields and dells - Listen to the jingle of sweet sleigh bells. - -Behold the rivers, brooks and springs, - Mountains and vales till nature sings. -Let the dear children skip and play, - Enjoy their lives now while they may. -Soon they must themselves prepare - For sterner things and greater care -And when they larger, wiser, grow, - Will help the world to move and go. - -Were we ourselves in proper tone, - So like the wireless telephone; -Heavenly music it might bring, - While sweet the angel voices sing. -The Christmas tree so bright and fair, - With many presents hanging there, -Loaded with gifts from top to floor, - May each on have a gift or more. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A LIFE'S STORY, IN POETRY *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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