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- 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 mist
- Columbkill he crosses,
- On his stately journeys
- From Slieveleague to Rosses;
- Or going up with music,
- On cold starry nights,
- To sup with the Queen,
- Of the gay Northern Lights.
- They stole little Bridget
- For seven years long;
- When she came down again
- Her friends were all gone.
- They took her lightly back
- Between the night and morrow;
- They thought she was fast asleep,
- But she was dead with sorrow.
- They have kept her ever since
- Deep within the lake,
- On a bed of flag leaves,
- Watching till she wake.
- By the craggy hill-side,
- Through the mosses bare,
- They have planted thorn trees
- For pleasure here and there.
- Is any man so daring
- As dig them up in spite?
- He shall find the thornies set
- In his bed at night.
- 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.
- William Allingham

- 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

- THROUGH grass, through amber'd cornfields, our slow Stream--
- Fringed with its flags and reeds and rushes tall,
- And Meadowsweet, the chosen of them all
- By wandering children, yellow as the cream
- Of those great cows--winds on as in a dream
- By mill and footbridge, hamlet old and small
- (Red roofs, gray tower), and sees the sunset gleam
- On mullion'd windows of an ivied Hall.
- There, once upon a time, the heavy King
- Trod out its perfume from the Meadowsweet,
- Strown like a woman's love beneath his feet,
- In stately dance or jovial banqueting,
- When all was new; and in its wayfaring
- Our Streamlet curved, as now, through grass and wheat.
- William Allingham

- A SUNSET'S mounded cloud;
- A diamond evening-star;
- Sad blue hills afar;
- Love in his shroud.
- Scarcely a tear to shed;
- Hardly a word to say;
- The end of a summer day;
- Sweet Love dead.
- William Allingham

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