Amy Margaret's Five Year Old

Amy Margaret's five years old,
Amy Margaret's hair is gold,
Dearer twenty-thousand-fold
Than gold, is Amy Margaret.
"Amy" is friend, is "Margaret"
The pearl for crown or carkanet?
Or peeping daisy, summer's pet?
Which are you, Amy Margaret?
A friend, a daisy, and a pearl,
A kindly, simple, precious girl,
Such, howsoe'er the world may twirl,
Be ever, Amy Margaret!

William Allingham

William Allingham was an Irish poet, diarist, and editor, born on March 19, 1824, and died on November 18, 1889. He is best known for his Diary, published posthumously and documenting his interactions with other notable Victorian writers. Allingham's poetry often reflected his Irish heritage and rural upbringing, with famous works such as "The Fairies" which influenced later writers. He served as the sub-editor of Fraser's Magazine and was well-regarded in literary circles for his contributions to poetry and literature.

William Allingham

In Snow

William Allingham, Simple Poetry

A Seed

William Allingham, Simple Poetry

Adieu To Belshanny

William Allingham, Simple Poetry

English

Suggested Poems

Explore a curated selection of verses that share themes, styles, and emotional resonance with the poem you've just read.

Margaret.

I saw her for a moment,
    Her presence haunts me yet,
In oft-recurring visions
    Of grace and gladness met
That marked the sweet demeanor
    Of dainty Margaret.

Like gossamer her robe was
    Around her lightly drawn,
A filmy summer-garment
    That fairy maidens don
To make them look like angels
    Croqueting on the lawn.

The mallet-sport became her
    In hue of exercise
That tinged her cheek with roses;
    And, dancing in her eyes,
Were pantomime suggestions
    Of having won - a prize.

No more to me a stranger
    Is she who occupies
A place in all my musings;
    And brings in tender guise
A thought of one so like her -
    Long years in Paradise.

Dear Margaret! that "pearl-name"
...

Hattie Howard

An Acrostic.

Merry, merry little child,
Active, playful, sometimes wild;
Rosy cheeks, and ringlets rare,
Glossy black, with eyes compare.
All, all these belong to thee,
Right pleasant little Margerie.
Every good, dear child, be given
Thee on earth, and rest in heaven.
But who thy future lot can see?
All, every page is hid from me;
Xtended through eternity,
Thy life so late begun will be.
Earnest seek to know the truth,
Remember God in early youth;
When in his sacred courts thou art,
Engage in worship thy whole heart;
Listen to what the preacher says,
Listen to prayers, and list to praise,
In nothing see thou dost offend,
Nor fail the Sabbath well to spend.
Give to thy parents honor due,
Thy sisters love, and brothers too...

Mary Ann H. T. Bigelow

In The Garret

    Four little chests all in a row,
    Dim with dust, and worn by time,
    All fashioned and filled, long ago,
    By children now in their prime.
    Four little keys hung side by side,
    With faded ribbons, brave and gay
    When fastened there, with childish pride,
    Long ago, on a rainy day.
    Four little names, one on each lid,
    Carved out by a boyish hand,
    And underneath there lieth hid
    Histories of the happy band
    Once playing here, and pausing oft
    To hear the sweet refrain,
    That came and went on the roof aloft,
    In the falling summer rain.


    "Meg" on the first lid, smooth and fair.
    I look in with loving eyes,
    For folded here, with well-known care,
    A goodly gathering lies,
 ...

Louisa May Alcott

Margaret.

    Her eyes - upon a summer's day
    God's skies are not more blue than they.

    Her hair - you've seen a sunbeam bold
    Made up of just such threads of gold.

    Her cheek - the leaf which nearest grows
    The dewy heart of June's red rose.

    Her mouth - full lipped, and subtly sweet
    As briar drowned in summer heat.

    Her heart - December's chill and snow -
    Heaven pity me, who love her so!

Jean Blewett

Dilly Dally

I.

There is a little girl I know
Who takes her time to come and go.
If you should ask her please to hurry,
She tries her best then to be slow:
She gives her parents lots of worry;
But she, she never worries no.
Her name is Dilly Dally;
But some folks call her"Gallie."
From head to feet
She's never neat,
But always shilly shally.

II.

When it is time for her to rise,
She won't get up, but lies and lies,
Her head beneath the cover:
Then down she comes with sleepy eyes,
When breakfast-time is over;
Uncombed, with shoes she never ties.
Her name is Dilly Dally;
But some folks call her"Gallie."
From head to feet
She's never neat,
But always shilly shally.

III.

When it is time to go to bed,

Madison Julius Cawein

May-Flower.

Pink, small, and punctual,
Aromatic, low,
Covert in April,
Candid in May,

Dear to the moss,
Known by the knoll,
Next to the robin
In every human soul.

Bold little beauty,
Bedecked with thee,
Nature forswears
Antiquity.

Emily Elizabeth Dickinson