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Tantarrara! the joyous Book of Spring Lies open, writ in blossoms.

William Allingham

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William Allingham
Age: 65 †
Born: 1824
Born: March 19
Died: 1889
Died: November 18
Poet
Writer
Book
Writ
Blossoms
Joyous
Spring
Lies
Open
Lying

More quotes by 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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Solitude is very sad, Too much company twice as bad.
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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Writing is learning to say nothing, more cleverly every day.
William Allingham
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I believe in Success, And in Comfort no less I believe all the rest is but patter.
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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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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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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Winds and waters keepA hush more dead than any sleep.
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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Sin we have explain'd away Unluckily, the sinners stay.
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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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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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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The mother's kiss is the sweetest thing ever.
William Allingham
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One who can see without seeming to see-- That's an observer as good as three.
William Allingham
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Pluck not the wayside flower It is the traveler's dower.
William Allingham
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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
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Round the world and home again, that's the sailor's way!
William Allingham