William Allingham Quotes

Writing is learning to say nothing, more cleverly each day.

— 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

“Round the world and home again, that's the sailor's way!”

— William Allingham

“By the craggy hill-side,
Through the mosses bare,
They have planted thorn-trees
For pleasure here and there.
If any man so daring
As dig them up in spite,
He shall find their sharpest thorns
In his bed at night.”

— William Allingham

“Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men.”

— 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

“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

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

“She danced a jig, she sung a song that took my heart away.”

— William Allingham

“Before a day was over, Home comes the rover, For mother's kiss - sweeter this
Than any other thing!”

— 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

“The mother's kiss is the sweetest thing ever.”

— William Allingham

“One who can see without seeming to see
That's an observer as good as three.”

— William Allingham

“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

“Soul's Castle fell at one blast of temptation, But many a worm had pierced the foundation.”

— William Allingham

“Solitude is very sad, Too much company twice as bad.”

— William Allingham

“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

“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

“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

Tantarrara! the joyous Book of Spring
Lies open, writ in blossoms.

— William Allingham

“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!”

— William Allingham

“Pluck not the wayside flower;
It is the traveler's dower.”

— 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