William Allingham
William Allingham
William Allinghamwas an Irish poet, diarist and editor. He wrote several volumes of lyric verse, and his poem 'The Faeries' was much anthologised; but he is better known for his posthumously published Diary, in which he records his lively encounters with Tennyson, Carlyle and other writers and artists. His wife, Helen Allingham, was a well-known water-colorist and illustrator...
NationalityIrish
ProfessionPoet
Date of Birth19 March 1824
CountryIreland
three seeming observers
One who can see without seeming to see-- That's an observer as good as three.
sadness autumn past
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.
soul temptation castles
Soul's Castle fell at one blast of temptation, But many a worm had pierced the foundation.
solitude too-much very-sad
Solitude is very sad, Too much company twice as bad.
work men feelings
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?
writing might originality
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.
time autumn mellow
Autumn's the mellow time.
summer fall autumn
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.
sea gravity trifles
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.
autumn winter apples
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.
summer heart spirit
Oh, bring again my heart's content, Thou Spirit of the Summer-time!
summer running stars
O Spirit of the Summertime! Bring back the roses to the dells; The swallow from her distant clime, The honey-bee from drowsy cells. Bring back the friendship of the sun; The gilded evenings, calm and late, When merry children homeward run, And peeping stars bid lovers wait. Bring back the singing; and the scent Of meadowlands at dewy prime;- Oh, bring again my heart's content, Thou Spirit of the Summertime!
flower pluck traveler
Pluck not the wayside flower; It is the traveler's dower.
world cost politeness
Politeness costs nothing. Nothing, that is, to him that shows it; but if often costs the world very dear.