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William Allingham Biography

William Allingham

William Allingham (19 March 1824 – 18 November 1889) was 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 watercolourist and illustrator.

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William Allingham Quotes

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

Book, Lying, Open, Spring, Tantarrara

If any foes of mine are there, I pardon every one: I hope that man and womankind will do the same by me.

Foe, Man, Men, Pardon, Pardon Me, Same

The mother's kiss is the sweetest thing ever.

Kiss, Kissing, Mother, Sweetest, Thing

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

Dower, Flower, Pluck, Traveler, Wayside

Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.

Autumn, Burns, Fall, Fire, Leaves, Slowly

Oh, bring again my heart's content, Thou Spirit of the Summer-time!

Bring, Heart, Spirit, Summer, Thou

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

Home, Kissing, Mothers Day, Rover, Sweeter

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

Home, Round, Way, World

Yet dearer still that Irish hill than all the world beside; It's home, sweet home, where'er I roam, through lands and waterswide.

Hill, Home, Land, Lands, Sweet

A man who keeps a diary pays, Due toll to many tedious days; But life becomes eventfulthen, His busy hand forgets the pen. Most books, indeed, are records less Of fulness than of emptiness.

Becomes, Book, Hands, Men, Pays, Records

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.

Disproportionate, Gravity, Official, Sea, Trifles, Turn

I always get back to the question, is it really necessary that men should consume so much of their bodily and mental energies in the machinery of civilized life? The world seems to me to do much of its toil for that which is not in any sense bread. Again, 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?

Bread, Consume, Feelings, Large, Life, Men

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?

Hatred, Principle, Revenge, Robbery, Selfishness

Sin we have explain'd away; Unluckily, the sinners stay.

Away, Sin, Sinner, Sinners, Unluckily

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?

Feelings, Men, Purpose, Tend, Work

I believe in Success, And in Comfort no less I believe all the rest is but patter.

Believe, Comfort, I Believe, Rest, Success

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!

Dewy, Prime, Roses, Running, Stars, Summer

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.

Autumn, Dead, Fall, Summer, Wide, Woods

Autumn's the mellow time.

Autumn, Inspiring, Mellow, Time

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

Cleverly, Day, Nothing, Say, Writing

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