William Allingham
If any foes of mine are there, I pardon every one: I hope that man and womankind will do the same by me.Collection: Hope
Autumn's the mellow time.Collection: Nature
Writing is learning to say nothing, more cleverly each day.Collection: Learning
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.
She danced a jig, she sung a song that took my heart away.
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.
Writing is learning to say nothing, more cleverly every day.Collection: Writing
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!.Collection: Spring
Solitude is very sad, Too much company twice as bad.Collection: Solitude
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?Collection: Men
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.Collection: Winter
A man who keeps a diary pays, Due toll to many tedious days; But life becomes eventful—then, His busy hand forgets the pen. Most books, indeed, are records less Of fulness than of emptiness.Collection: Book
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.Collection: Summer
Soul's Castle fell at one blast of temptation, But many a worm had pierced the foundation.Collection: Temptation
Politeness costs nothing. Nothing, that is, to him that shows it; but if often costs the world very dear.Collection: Cost
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!Collection: Summer
Round the world and home again, that's the sailor's way!Collection: Home
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.Collection: Sea
One who can see without seeming to see-- That's an observer as good as three.Collection: Three
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.Collection: Writing
Scarcely a tear to shed; Hardly a word to say; The end of a Summer's day; Sweet Love is dead.Collection: Summer
Winds and waters keepA hush more dead than any sleep.Collection: Sleep
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?Collection: Work
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.Collection: Song
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?Collection: Revenge
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!Collection: Kings
Sin we have explain'd away; Unluckily, the sinners stay.Collection: Sin
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.Collection: Sadness
The mother's kiss is the sweetest thing ever.Collection: Mother