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Sin we have explain'd away Unluckily, the sinners stay.
William Allingham
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William Allingham
Age: 65 †
Born: 1824
Born: March 19
Died: 1889
Died: November 18
Poet
Writer
Sinners
Sinner
Explain
Sin
Stay
Away
More quotes by William Allingham
She danced a jig, she sung a song that took my heart away.
William Allingham
The mother's kiss is the sweetest thing ever.
William Allingham
Soul's Castle fell at one blast of temptation, But many a worm had pierced the foundation.
William Allingham
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
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!
William Allingham
One who can see without seeming to see-- That's an observer as good as three.
William Allingham
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
Scarcely a tear to shed Hardly a word to say The end of a Summer's day Sweet Love is dead.
William Allingham
Politeness costs nothing. Nothing, that is, to him that shows it but if often costs the world very dear.
William Allingham
Writing is learning to say nothing, more cleverly every day.
William Allingham
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.
William Allingham
Autumn's the mellow time.
William Allingham
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
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
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
Pluck not the wayside flower It is the traveler's dower.
William Allingham
Winds and waters keepA hush more dead than any sleep.
William Allingham
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
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
Tantarrara! the joyous Book of Spring Lies open, writ in blossoms.
William Allingham