Wayside Flowers (William Allingham Poem)
Pluck not the wayside flower, It is the traveller's dower; A thousand passers-by Its beauties may espy, May win a ...
Pluck not the wayside flower, It is the traveller's dower; A thousand passers-by Its beauties may espy, May win a ...
In early morning twilight, raw and chill, Damp vapours brooding on the barren hill, Through miles of mire in steady ...
Up the airy mountain, Down the rushy glen, We daren't go a-hunting For fear of little men; Wee folk, good ...
Doleful was the land, Dull on, every side, Neither soft n'or grand, Barren, bleak, and wide; Nothing look'd with love; ...
Now Autumn's fire burns slowly along the woods, And day by day the dead leaves fall and melt, And night ...
A sunset's mounded cloud; A diamond evening-star; Sad blue hills afar; Love in his shroud. Scarcely a tear to shed; ...
Gray, gray is Abbey Assaroe, by Belashanny town, It has neither door nor window, the walls are broken down; The ...
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