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Autumn's the mellow time.

William Allingham

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William Allingham
Age: 65 †
Born: 1824
Born: March 19
Died: 1889
Died: November 18
Poet
Writer
Time
Mellow
Autumn
Inspiring

More quotes by William Allingham

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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
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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
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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
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Writing is learning to say nothing, more cleverly every day.
William Allingham
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Tantarrara! the joyous Book of Spring Lies open, writ in blossoms.
William Allingham
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Soul's Castle fell at one blast of temptation, But many a worm had pierced the foundation.
William Allingham
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Solitude is very sad, Too much company twice as bad.
William Allingham
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Pluck not the wayside flower It is the traveler's dower.
William Allingham
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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
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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
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Before a day was over, Home comes the rover, For mother's kiss - sweeter this Than any other thing!
William Allingham
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Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.
William Allingham
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Round the world and home again, that's the sailor's way!
William Allingham
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Politeness costs nothing. Nothing, that is, to him that shows it but if often costs the world very dear.
William Allingham
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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
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She danced a jig, she sung a song that took my heart away.
William Allingham
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Scarcely a tear to shed Hardly a word to say The end of a Summer's day Sweet Love is dead.
William Allingham
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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.
William Allingham
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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
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Sin we have explain'd away Unluckily, the sinners stay.
William Allingham