Poems by William Allingham

All Poems Original Poems Translations

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Wishing

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 love me,

The fern and moss to creep across,

And the Elm tree for our king!

Nay—stay! I wish I were an Elm tree,

A great, lofty Elm tree, with green leaves gay!

by William Allingham

The Eviction

In early morning twilight, raw and chill,

Damp vapours brooding on the barren hill,

Through miles of mire in steady grave array

Threescore well-arm'd police pursue their way;

Each tall and bearded man a rifle swings,

And under each greatcoat a bayonet clings:

The Sheriff on his sturdy cob astride

Talks with the chief, who marches by their side,

by William Allingham

The Elf Singing

An Elf sat on a twig,

He was not very big,

He sang a little song,

He did not think it wrong;

But he was on a Wizard's ground,

Who hated all sweet sound.

Elf, Elf,

by William Allingham

The Lover And Birds

Within a budding grove,

In April's ear sang every bird his best,

But not a song to pleasure my unrest,

Or touch the tears unwept of bitter love;

Some spake, methought, with pity, some as if in jest.

To every word

Of every bird

I listen'd, and replied as it behove.

by William Allingham

St Margaret's Eve

Saint Margaret's Eve it did befall,

The waves roll so gayly O,

The tide came creeping up the wall,

Love me true!

I opened my gate; who there should stand--

The waves roll so gayly O,

But a fair lady, with a cup in her hand,

Love me true!

by William Allingham

Writing

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.

by William Allingham

To The Author Of 'Hesperides

Hayrick some do spell thy name,

And thy verse approves the same;

For 'tis like fresh-scented hay,—-

With country lasses in't at play.

A tribute to Robert Herrick.

by William Allingham

On A Forenoon Of Spring

I'm glad I am alive, to see and feel

The full deliciousness of this bright day,

That's like a heart with nothing to conceal;

The young leaves scarcely trembling; the blue-grey

Rimming the cloudless ether far away;

Brairds, hedges, shadows; mountains that reveal

Soft sapphire; this great floor of polished steel

Spread out amidst the landmarks of the bay.

by William Allingham

Kate O'Belashanny

Seek up and down, both fair and brown,

We've purty lasses many, O;

But brown or fair, one girl most rare,

The Flow'r o' Belashanny, O.

As straight is she as poplar-tree

(Tho' not as aisy shaken, O,)

And walks so proud among the crowd,

For queen she might be taken, O.

by William Allingham

Down On The Shore

Down on the shore, on the sunny shore!

Where the salt smell cheers the land;

Where the tide moves bright under boundless light,

And the surge on the glittering strand;

Where the children wade in the shallow pools,

Or run from the froth in play;

Where the swift little boats with milk-white wings

Are crossing the sapphire bay,

by William Allingham

Daffodil

Gold tassel upon March's bugle-horn,

Whose blithe reveille blows from hill to hill

And every valley rings--O Daffodil!

What promise for the season newly born?

Shall wave on wave of flow'rs, full tide of corn,

O'erflow the world, then fruited Autumn fill

Hedgerow and garth? Shall tempest, blight, or chill

Turn all felicity to scathe and scorn?

by William Allingham

Places And Men

In Sussex here, by shingle and by sand,

Flat fields and farmsteads in their wind-blown trees,

The shallow tide-wave courses to the land,

And all along the down a fringe one sees

Of ducal woods. That 'dim discovered spire'

Is Chichester, where Collins felt a fire

Touch his sad lips; thatched Felpham roofs are these,

Where happy Blake found heaven more close at hand.

by William Allingham