William Allingham

(19 March 1824 – 18 November 1889 / Donegal / Ireland)

William Allingham Poems

1. Song 4/16/2010
2. Song. O Spirit Of The Summer-Time! 4/16/2010
3. Let Me Sing Of What I Know 4/16/2010
4. The Winter Pear 4/16/2010
5. To The Author Of 'Hesperides 4/16/2010
6. Lovely Mary Donnelly 4/16/2010
7. The Abbot Of Innisfallen 4/16/2010
8. The Lover And Birds 4/16/2010
9. The Nobleman's Wedding 4/16/2010
10. The Winding Banks Of Erne 4/16/2010
11. The Bubble 4/16/2010
12. St. Margaret's Eve 4/16/2010
13. The Maids Of Elfin-Mere 4/16/2010
14. The Girl's Lamentation 4/16/2010
15. The Ruined Chapel 4/16/2010
16. The Elf Singing 4/16/2010
17. Meadowsweet 12/31/2002
18. The Little Dell 12/31/2002
19. The Touchstone 12/31/2002
20. Places And Men 12/31/2002
21. These Little Songs 12/31/2002
22. Writing 12/31/2002
23. Robin Redbreast 12/31/2002
24. Daffodil 4/16/2010
25. Wayside Flowers 12/31/2002
26. Kate O'Belashanny 4/16/2010
27. On A Forenoon Of Spring 12/31/2002
28. Four Ducks On A Pond 4/16/2010
29. In A Spring Grove 12/31/2002
30. Late Autumn 12/31/2002
31. Amy Margaret's Five Year Old 12/31/2002
32. Abbey Assaroe 12/31/2002
33. After Sunset 12/31/2002
34. Aeolian Harp 12/31/2002
35. An Evening 12/31/2002
36. Autumnal Sonnet 12/31/2002
37. Adieu To Belshanny 12/31/2002
38. In Snow 12/31/2002
39. A Singer 12/31/2002
40. Half-Waking 12/31/2002
Best Poem of William Allingham

The Fairies

Up the airy mountain,
Down the rushy glen,
We daren't go a-hunting
For fear of little men;
Wee folk, good folk,
Trooping all together;
Green jacket, red cap,
And white owl's feather!

Down along the rocky shore
Some make their home,
They live on crispy pancakes
Of yellow tide-foam;
Some in the reeds
Of the black mountain lake,
With frogs for their watch-dogs,
All night awake.

High on the hill-top
The old King sits;
He is now so old and gray
He's nigh lost his wits.
With a bridge of white ...

Read the full of The Fairies

Half-Waking

I thought it was the little bed
I slept in long ago;
A straight white curtain at the head,
And two smooth knobs below.
I thought I saw the nursery fire,
And in a chair well-known
My mother sat, and did not tire
With reading all alone.
If I should make the slightest sound

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