Quote

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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William Allingham
Age: 65 †
Born: 1824
Born: March 19
Died: 1889
Died: November 18
Poet
Writer
Less
Busy
Diaries
Hands
Pay
Tedious
Book
Records
Pays
Eventful
Many
Becomes
Pens
Fulness
Men
Days
Emptiness
Toll
Life
Hand
Dues
Tolls
Books
Keeps
Diary
Forget
Indeed
Forgets

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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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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.
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She danced a jig, she sung a song that took my heart away.
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Before a day was over, Home comes the rover, For mother's kiss - sweeter this Than any other thing!
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Winds and waters keepA hush more dead than any sleep.
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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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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?
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.
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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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One who can see without seeming to see-- That's an observer as good as three.
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Pluck not the wayside flower It is the traveler's dower.
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Round the world and home again, that's the sailor's way!
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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.
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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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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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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.
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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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Soul's Castle fell at one blast of temptation, But many a worm had pierced the foundation.
William Allingham
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The mother's kiss is the sweetest thing ever.
William Allingham