Classifier Instance:

Anchor text: Punch
Target Entity: Punch_\u0028magazine\u0029
Preceding Context: to "return to England, probably for good". This he did in 1878, only briefly visiting Ireland twice. Unsure of his next step, he wrote to various acquaintances enquiring about Classics positions at Oxford or Cambridge. was his submission for the Chancellor's Essay prize of 1879, which, though no longer a student, he was still eligible to enter. Its subject, "Historical Criticism among the Ancients" seemed ready-made for Wilde – with both his skill in composition and ancient learning – but he struggled to find his voice with the long, flat, scholarly style. Unusually, no prize was awarded that year. With the last of his inheritance from the sale of his father's houses, he set himself up as a bachelor in London. The 1881 British Census listed Wilde as a boarder at 1 Tite Street, Chelsea, where , a society painter, was the head of the household. Wilde would spend the next six years in London and Paris, and in the United States where he travelled to deliver lectures. He had been publishing lyrics and poems in magazines since his entering Trinity College, especially in Kottabos and the Dublin University Magazine. In mid-1881, at 27 years old, Poems collected, revised and expanded his poetic efforts. The book was generally well received, and sold out its first print run of 750 copies, prompting further printings in 1882. Bound in a rich, enamel, parchment cover (embossed with gilt blossom) and printed on hand-made Dutch paper, Wilde would present many copies to the dignitaries and writers who received him over the next few years. The Oxford Union condemned the book for alleged plagiarism in a tight vote. The librarian, who had requested the book for the library, returned the presentation copy to Wilde with a note of apology. Richard Ellmann argues that Wilde's poem "" was a sincere, though flamboyant, attempt to explain the dichotomies he saw in himself: To drift with every passion till my soul Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play
Succeeding Context: was less enthusiastic, "The poet is Wilde, but his poetry's tame" was their verdict.
Paragraph Title: null
Source Page: Oscar Wilde

Ground Truth Types:

Predicted Types:

Type	Confidence	Decision
wordnet_artifact_100021939	-0.020020943696655386	0
wordnet_event_100029378	-2.445929886845295	0
wordnet_organization_108008335	-1.1235311973080475	0
wordnet_person_100007846	-1.6237436113282988	0
yagoGeoEntity	-2.040248607722275	0