Quote

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

Change background

T
T
T

Change font

TAGS & TOPICS

William Allingham
Age: 65 †
Born: 1824
Born: March 19
Died: 1889
Died: November 18
Poet
Writer
Song
Ripe
Pipe
Throng
Thrilling
Swarm
Fairy
Boughs
Hear
Chant
Morning
Swarms
Waiting
Fairies
Clear
Arouse

More quotes by William Allingham

Image
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
Image
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
Image
Autumn's the mellow time.
William Allingham
Image
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
Image
One who can see without seeming to see-- That's an observer as good as three.
William Allingham
Image
Solitude is very sad, Too much company twice as bad.
William Allingham
Image
Politeness costs nothing. Nothing, that is, to him that shows it but if often costs the world very dear.
William Allingham
Image
Pluck not the wayside flower It is the traveler's dower.
William Allingham
Image
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
Image
I believe in Success, And in Comfort no less I believe all the rest is but patter.
William Allingham
Image
Sin we have explain'd away Unluckily, the sinners stay.
William Allingham
Image
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.
William Allingham
Image
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
Image
The mother's kiss is the sweetest thing ever.
William Allingham
Image
Soul's Castle fell at one blast of temptation, But many a worm had pierced the foundation.
William Allingham
Image
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
Image
Scarcely a tear to shed Hardly a word to say The end of a Summer's day Sweet Love is dead.
William Allingham
Image
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
Image
Before a day was over, Home comes the rover, For mother's kiss - sweeter this Than any other thing!
William Allingham
Image
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