Quote

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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William Allingham
Age: 65 †
Born: 1824
Born: March 19
Died: 1889
Died: November 18
Poet
Writer
Little
Blue
Ponds
Thing
Spring
Ducks
Years
Tears
Wing
Beyond
Bank
Four
Grass
White
Clouds
Remember
Wings
Littles
Sky
Pond

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Oh, bring again my heart's content, Thou Spirit of the Summer-time!
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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.
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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.
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Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.
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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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Winds and waters keepA hush more dead than any sleep.
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.
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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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Autumn's the mellow time.
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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.
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Writing is learning to say nothing, more cleverly every day.
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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?
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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!
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Tantarrara! the joyous Book of Spring Lies open, writ in blossoms.
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 mother's kiss is the sweetest thing ever.
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Politeness costs nothing. Nothing, that is, to him that shows it but if often costs the world very dear.
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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.
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She danced a jig, she sung a song that took my heart away.
William Allingham
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Sin we have explain'd away Unluckily, the sinners stay.
William Allingham