1.
Ring-ting! I wish I were a primrose, A bright yellow primrose blowing in the spring! The stooping boughs above me, The wandering bee to love me, The fern and moss to creep across, And the elm-tree for our king!
William Allingham
2.
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.
William Allingham
3.
Before a day was over, Home comes the rover, For mother's kiss - sweeter this
Than any other thing!
William Allingham
4.
The trees are Indian Princes, But soon they'll turn to Ghosts; The scanty pears and apples Hang russet on the bough; Its Autumn, Autumn, Autumn late, 'Twill soon be Winter now. Robin, Robin Redbreast, O Robin dear! And what will this poor Robin do? For pinching days are near.
William Allingham
5.
Autumn's the mellow time.
William Allingham
6.
Writing is learning to say nothing, more cleverly every day.
William Allingham
7.
Four ducks on a pond, / A grass-bank beyond, / A blue sky of spring, / White clouds on the wing: / What a little thing / To remember for years - / To remember with tears!.
William Allingham
8.
O Spirit of the Summertime! Bring back the roses to the dells; The swallow from her distant clime, The honey-bee from drowsy cells. Bring back the friendship of the sun; The gilded evenings, calm and late, When merry children homeward run, And peeping stars bid lovers wait. Bring back the singing; and the scent Of meadowlands at dewy prime;- Oh, bring again my heart's content, Thou Spirit of the Summertime!
William Allingham
9.
If any foes of mine are there, I pardon every one: I hope that man and womankind will do the same by me.
William Allingham
10.
History of Ireland--lawlessness and turbulency, robbery and oppression, hatred and revenge, blind selfishness everywhere--no principle, no heroism. What can be done with it?
William Allingham
11.
Pluck not the wayside flower;
It is the traveler's dower.
William Allingham
12.
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods, And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt, And night by night the monitory blast Wails in the key-hole, telling how it pass'd O'er empty fields, or upland solitudes, Or grim wide wave; and now the power is felt Of melancholy, tenderer in its moods Than any joy indulgent Summer dealt.
William Allingham
13.
She danced a jig, she sung a song that took my heart away.
William Allingham
14.
A man who keeps a diary pays, Due toll to many tedious days; But life becomes eventfulthen, His busy hand forgets the pen. Most books, indeed, are records less Of fulness than of emptiness.
William Allingham
15.
Round the world and home again, that's the sailor's way!
William Allingham
16.
Fairies, arouse! Mix with your song Harplet and pipe, Thrilling and clear, Swarm on the boughs! Chant in a throng! Morning is ripe, Waiting to hear.
William Allingham
17.
I have been an "Official" all my life, without the least turn for it. I never could attain a true official manner, which is highly artificial and handles trifles with ludicrously disproportionate gravity.
William Allingham
18.
I always get back to the question, is it really necessary that men should consume so much of their bodily and mental energies in the machinery of civilized life? The world seems to me to do much of its toil for that which is not in any sense bread. Again, does not the latent feeling that much of their striving is to no purpose tend to infuse large quantities of sham into men's work?
William Allingham
19.
Not like Homer would I write, Not like Dante if I might, Not like Shakespeare at his best, Not like Goethe or the rest, Like myself, however small, Like myself, or not at all.
William Allingham
20.
Does not the latent feeling that much of their striving is to no purpose tend to infuse large quantities of sham into men's work?
William Allingham
21.
Sin we have explain'd away; Unluckily, the sinners stay.
William Allingham
22.
Scarcely a tear to shed; Hardly a word to say; The end of a Summer's day; Sweet Love is dead.
William Allingham
23.
Winds and waters keepA hush more dead than any sleep.
William Allingham
24.
Bare twigs in April enhance our pleasure; We know the good time is yet to come.... Bare twigs in Autumn are signs for sadness; We feel the good time is well-nigh past.
William Allingham
25.
I believe in Success,
And in Comfort no less
I believe all the rest is but patter.
William Allingham
26.
Tantarrara! the joyous Book of Spring
Lies open, writ in blossoms.
William Allingham
27.
Solitude is very sad, Too much company twice as bad.
William Allingham
28.
Oh, bring again my heart's content,
Thou Spirit of the Summer-time!
William Allingham
29.
Politeness costs nothing. Nothing, that is, to him that shows it; but if often costs the world very dear.
William Allingham
30.
One who can see without seeming to see-- That's an observer as good as three.
William Allingham
31.
Yet dearer still that Irish hill than all the world beside;
It's home, sweet home, where'er I roam, through lands and waterswide.
William Allingham
32.
Soul's Castle fell at one blast of temptation, But many a worm had pierced the foundation.
William Allingham
33.
The mother's kiss is the sweetest thing ever.
William Allingham