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… — William Allingham Copy Share Image
I have been an "Official" all my life, without the least turn for it. I never could attain a true official manner, which is… — William Allingham Copy Share Image
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… — William Allingham Copy Share Image
“Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men.” — William Allingham Copy Share Image
One who can see without seeming to see-- That's an observer as good as three. — William Allingham Copy Share Image
Before a day was over, Home comes the rover, For mother's kiss - sweeter this Than any other thing! — William Allingham Copy Share Image
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… — William Allingham Copy Share Image
Poor Paddy of all Christian men I think On basest food pours down the vilest drink. — William Allingham Copy Share Image
