Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt. William Allingham More Quotes by William Allingham More Quotes From 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 sky spring wings Before a day was over, Home comes the rover, For mother's kiss - sweeter this William Allingham mothers-day kissing home Writing is learning to say nothing, more cleverly every day. William Allingham writing She danced a jig, she sung a song that took my heart away. William Allingham my-heart heart song Round the world and home again, that's the sailor's way! William Allingham home way world 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 autumn apples winter 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 stars summer running 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. William Allingham autumn summer fall Oh, bring again my heart's content, William Allingham spirit summer heart Solitude is very sad, Too much company twice as bad. William Allingham very-sad too-much solitude Pluck not the wayside flower; William Allingham pluck traveler flower 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 originality writing might 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 work feelings men The mother's kiss is the sweetest thing ever. William Allingham sweetest kissing mother 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 men book hands Autumn's the mellow time. William Allingham autumn time inspiring 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 pardon-me foe men I believe in Success, William Allingham i-believe comfort believe Politeness costs nothing. Nothing, that is, to him that shows it; but if often costs the world very dear. William Allingham politeness cost world Yet dearer still that Irish hill than all the world beside; William Allingham land home sweet
