Bright yellow, red, and orange,
The leaves come down in hosts;
The trees are Indian princes,
But soon they'll turn to ghosts;

(William Allingham (1824-1889), Irish poet. Robin Redbreast (l. 13-16). . . Oxford Book of Children's Verse, The. Iona Opie and Peter Opie, eds. (1973) Oxford University Press.)

Alas! in winter, dead and dark,
Where can poor Robin go?

(William Allingham (1824-1889), Irish poet. Robin Redbreast (l. 31-32). . . Oxford Book of Children's Verse, The. Iona Opie and Peter Opie, eds. (1973) Oxford University Press.)

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 civilised 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?

(William Allingham (1824-1889), Irish poet, diarist. A Diary, ch. 6, 1864 entry, eds. H. Allingham and D. Radford (1907). "I have been an 'Official' all my life," Allingham wrote, "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.")

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 (1824-1889), Irish poet, diarist. Entry for March 24-28, 1864. A Diary, ch. 6, eds. H. Allingham and D. Radford (1907).)

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

(William Allingham (1824-1889), Irish poet, diarist. Adieu to Belashanny.)

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

(William Allingham (1824-1889), Irish poet, diarist. "The Fairies," Day and Night Songs (1855).)

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?

(William Allingham (1824-1889), Irish poet, diarist. A Diary, ch. 8, entry for Nov. 11, 1866, eds. H. Allingham and D. Radford (1907).)

The fireside for the cricket,
The wheatstack for the mouse,
When trembling night-winds whistle
And moan all round the house;

(William Allingham (1824-1889), Irish poet. Robin Redbreast (l. 25-28). . . Oxford Book of Children's Verse, The. Iona Opie and Peter Opie, eds. (1973) Oxford University Press.)

Poor Paddy of all Christian men I think
On basest food pours down the vilest drink.

(William Allingham (1824-1889), Irish poet, diarist. Lawrence Bloomfield, ch. 12 (1864). These two lines, as Allingham proudly noted in his diary, were quoted by Liberal politician William Gladstone?an advocate of Irish Home Rule?in the House of Commons, May 30, 1864, with reference to a proposed alteration of spirit duties.)

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

(William Allingham (1824-1889), Irish poet. Wishing (l. 21-24). . . Oxford Book of Children's Verse, The. Iona Opie and Peter Opie, eds. (1973) Oxford University Press.)