98 Summer Poems to Warm Up Your Mood and Spirit
Summer is a season of warmth, sunshine, and long, lazy days. It’s a time to relax, unwind, and enjoy the beauty of nature.
Poets have been inspired by summer for centuries, and there are countless works that capture the essence of this vibrant season.
From funny and lighthearted verses to inspiring and uplifting works, there is a summer poem to suit every mood and taste.
In this article, we’ll explore some of the best summer poems ever written, organized by category for your convenience.
So sit back, relax, and let these beautiful poems on summer warm up your mood and spirit.
Famous Summer Poems
These famous poems about summer have become timeless classics, beloved by readers of all ages. Let’s check them all out!
1. Rain in Summer
by William Stanley Braithwaite
The afternoon grew darkening from the west;
A hush fell on the air, and in the trees;
The huddled birds pronounced their prophecies;
The flowers bent their heads as if to rest
Now that the tide of the sun’s golden seas
In one long wave swept off the earth’s wide breast.
Up sprung deft shadowy patterns by degrees,
And nature’s face her soul made manifest.
Lo, in the instant, slant, like a hanging string
Of silver glass beads, pendant from the clouds
The rain descends! Leaves sing, and wavering
The tall lithe grasses dance in separate crowds.
I stand and let my soul commune, it knows
The mystery that calls it from its close.
2. Back Yard
by Carl Sandburg
Shine on, O moon of summer.
Shine to the leaves of grass, catalpa and oak,
All silver under your rain to-night.
An Italian boy is sending songs to you to-night from an accordion.
A Polish boy is out with his best girl; they marry next month;
to-night they are throwing you kisses.
An old man next door is dreaming over a sheen that sits in a
cherry tree in his back yard.
The clocks say I must go—I stay here sitting on the back porch drinking
white thoughts you rain down.
Shine on, O moon,
Shake out more and more silver changes.
3. The End of the Summer
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
The birds laugh loud and long together
When Fashion’s followers speed away
At the first cool breath of autumn weather.
Why, this is the time, cry the birds, to stay!
When the deep calm sea and the deep sky over
Both look their passion through sun-kissed space,
As a blue-eyed maid and her blue-eyed lover
Might each gaze into the other’s face.
Oh! this is the time when careful spying
Discovers the secrets Nature knows.
You find when the butterflies plan for flying
(Before the thrush or the blackbird goes),
You see some day by the water’s edges
A brilliant border of red and black;
And then off over the hills and hedges
It flutters away on the summer’s track.
The shy little sumacs, in lonely places,
Bowed all summer with dust and heat,
Like clean-clad children with rain-washed faces,
Are dressed in scarlet from head to feet.
And never a flower had the boastful summer,
In all the blossoms that decked her sod,
So royal hued as that later comer
The purple chum of the goldenrod.
Some chill grey dawn you note with grieving
That the King of Autumn is on his way.
You see, with a sorrowful, slow believing,
How the wanton woods have gone astray,
They wear the stain of bold caresses,
Of riotous revels with old King Frost;
They dazzle all eyes with their gorgeous dresses,
Nor care that their green young leaves are lost.
A wet wind blows from the East one morning,
The wood’s gay garments looked draggled out.
You hear a sound, and your heart takes warning―
The birds are planning their winter route.
They wheel and settle and scold and wrangle,
Their tempers are ruffled, their voices loud;
Then whirr and away in a feathered tangle,
To fade in the south like a passing cloud.
Envoi A songless wood stripped bare of glory―
A sodden moor that is black and brown;
The year has finished its last love-story:
Oh! let us away to the gay bright town.
4. A Summer Poem
by Jayanta Mahapatra
Over the soughing of the sombre wind
priests chant louder than ever;
the mouth of India opens.
Crocodiles move into deeper waters.
Mornings of heated middens
smoke under the sun.
The good wife
lies in my bed
through the long afternoon;
dreaming still, unexhausted
by the deep roar of funeral pyres.
5. Summer
by John Clare
Come we to the summer, to the summer we will come,
For the woods are full of bluebells and the hedges full of bloom,
And the crow is on the oak a-building of her nest,
And love is burning diamonds in my true lover’s breast;
She sits beneath the whitethorn a-plaiting of her hair,
And I will to my true lover with a fond request repair;
I will look upon her face, I will in her beauty rest,
And lay my aching weariness upon her lovely breast.
The clock-a-clay is creeping on the open bloom of May,
The merry bee is trampling the pinky threads all day,
And the chaffinch it is brooding on its grey mossy nest
In the whitethorn bush where I will lean upon my lover’s breast;
I’ll lean upon her breast and I’ll whisper in her ear
That I cannot get a wink o’sleep for thinking of my dear;
I hunger at my meat and I daily fade away
Like the hedge rose that is broken in the heat of the day.
6. Sonnet 18
by William Shakespeare
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date;
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimm’d;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st;
Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st:
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
7. A Something in a Summer’s Day
by Emily Dickinson
A something in a summer’s day,
As slow her flambeaux burn away,
Which solemnizes me.
A something in a summer’s noon, —
An azure depth, a wordless tune,
Transcending ecstasy.
And still within a summer’s night
A something so transporting bright,
I clap my hands to see;
Then veil my too inspecting face,
Lest such a subtle, shimmering grace
Flutter too far for me.
The wizard-fingers never rest,
The purple brook within the breast
Still chafes its narrow bed;
Still rears the East her amber flag,
Guides still the sun along the crag
His caravan of red,
Like flowers that heard the tale of dews,
But never deemed the dripping prize
Awaited their low brows;
Or bees, that thought the summer’s name
Some rumor of delirium
No summer could for them;
Or Arctic creature, dimly stirred
By tropic hint, — some travelled bird
Imported to the wood;
Or wind’s bright signal to the ear,
Making that homely and severe,
Contented, known, before
The heaven unexpected came,
To lives that thought their worshipping
A too presumptuous psalm.
8. Summer’s Armies
by Emily Dickinson
Some rainbow coming from the fair!
Some vision of the world Cashmere
I confidently see!
Or else a peacock’s purple train,
Feather by feather, on the plain
Fritters itself away!
The dreamy butterflies bestir,
Lethargic pools resume the whir
Of last year’s sundered tune.
From some old fortress on the sun
Baronial bees march, one by one,
In murmuring platoon!
The robins stand as thick to-day
As flakes of snow stood yesterday,
On fence and roof and twig.
The orchis binds her feather on
For her old lover, Don the Sun,
Revisiting the bog!
Without commander, countless, still,
The regiment of wood and hill
In bright detachment stand.
Behold! Whose multitudes are these?
The children of whose turbaned seas,
Or what Circassian land?
9. Sappho 31
by Chris Childers
He seems like the gods’ equal, that man, who
ever he is, who takes his seat so close
across from you, and listens raptly to
your lilting voice
and lovely laughter, which, as it wafts by,
sets the heart in my ribcage fluttering;
as soon as I glance at you a moment, I
can’t say a thing,
and my tongue stiffens into silence, thin
flames underneath my skin prickle and spark,
a rush of blood booms in my ears, and then
my eyes go dark,
and sweat pours coldly over me, and all
my body shakes, suddenly sallower
than summer grass, and death, I fear and feel,
is very near.
Funny Summer Poems
Whether you’re looking for a silly limerick or a humorous take on a summer activity, these funny poems about summer are sure to make you smile.
1. Summer Cooking
by Joseph Sergi
Its summer time you know what that means,
We move the grill out for all to see.
Stainless Steel shining in the sun,
Five burners! Yea that’s the one!
Then the family comes over and the heat is on
You’re thinking to yourself “this is not fun”
Sweat is pouring down and rolling in your eyes,
And the smoke rises up to the sky.
Burgers and hot dogs fly off the grill,
You think to yourself when will they be fill?
Summer cooking in the hot sun,
I can’t wait until winter comes.
2. Weather
by Key V.
I hate the cold weather, whether to say the least,
the cold weather hates me, I slipped and fell last week,
plus the warm weather’s better, I’d rather sweat than freeze,
put the ice in my drinks not in my socks and sleeves,
the reason I feel this way, stems from two things,
maybe I’m a fall guy, with wants to see some leaves,
or I just miss the summer days with vitamin ray beams,
either reason or way my thoughts remain oblique,
because I hate the cold weather and cold weather hates me.
3. The Gift
by Mike Martin
Deep in the wilde of the Cypress mound on the lower Graburn run
The air is cool and clear by far for the eye of the setting sun
A ride along the turning valleys sight above the plain
The break of eve the sun is sank the day all ends aglow
Made for all by the hands of many of earth and tree and branch
Unwaving hospitality Historic Reesor Ranch
4. Summer – And It’s Raining Again
by Jan Allison
Welcome to our ‘British’ summer
It’s raining again – oh what a bummer
Clear blue skies have turned to grey
Think it’s time for a foreign holiday!
5. Our Winter Turned into Summer
by Lu Loo
I wish I knew how cold summer would be,
maybe I’d wear long leggings in the pool-
I’d swim with my mittens casually,
and most likely look like a chilly fool.
Cuz’ winter turned into summer in June,
kids went sledding in the lavender field-
The snow melted and I looked like a prune,
ice stuck on the oranges as I peeled.
It happened so fast we never saw Spring,
the poor squirrels never buried their nuts-
Never heard the baby birds chirp and sing,
never heard the quacking of the lil’ ducks.
Our Winter turned into Summer…so strange-
The seasons mother nature rearranged!
6. Sting Bee
by Richard Brees
I knew a bee that could sing
it worked for a queen and king
but they preferred honey
and paid it no money
now it sings backup for sting.
7. Mr. Crocodile’s Back in Town
by Darlene Gifford
On a sweltering summer day,
Mr. Crocodile’s come to stay.
Slithering into shops and stores,
every cold thing he devours.
Children’s mouths drop and drool.
They see what’s keeping him so cool!
Cats and dogs linger at his feet,
licking up drippings, of sweet, stolen treats.
Cops and fire trucks roar down the block,
with their sirens blaring, chasing Mr. Crock.
Toddler’s cry while their mother’s scream,
to see him eating all the town’s ice cream.
8. To Thong in Public
by Kari Koivu
To wear a thong in public…
Not much chance of that…
Unless you’re the type…
That gets invited back…
For unlike the summer months…
What’s there to show…
I myself…put it on the shelf…
As like most you know…
To thong in public…
That’s a life time ago…
A little more to hide…
Even in summer time…
To wear a thong in public…
Not much chance of that…
Inspirational Summer Poems
These inspirational poems about summer offer a powerful message of hope and encouragement, reminding us to embrace the beauty and joy of life.
1. The Summer’s Message
by Annie Armstrong
What is the message the Summer brings?
The fair new Summer of bud and bloom,
That sweeps from the south upon airy wings,
Filling the earth with a sweet perfume;
Listen! From every tree a voice;
The birds are singing their song, “Rejoice!”
Down in the meadow the lilies blow,
Buttercups wave when the breezes come,
Over them lazily to and fro
The brown bee flies with a drowsy hum;
Murmering on in his slumberous voice
To the flowers, “The Summer has come, Rejoice!”
Up in the mountains, half hid from sight,
The brooklet dances and leaps along;
Mirrors the glance of the sunbeams bright,
And breaks for joy into happy song;
As it flows, it sings in a silvery voice
To the pebbles, “The Summer has come, Rejoice!”
Sweet is the message the Summer brings,
And hearts that were weary with grief and pain
Grow strong at the sound of her rustling wings,
And hopes long buried arise again;
And we join the song with great nature’s voice,
“The beautiful Summer has come, Rejoice!”
2. Summer
by Ellen P. Allerton
The trailing skirts of the summer
Have swept away to the south—
A blast came down from the northland
And kissed her on the mouth.
She fled from the kiss that chilled her,
From the touch of a frosty hand;
But the work of her busy fingers
Is strewn all over the land.
Wrought she well in the sunshine.
And wrought she well in the rain;
For the corn hangs thick and heavy,
And the garners are filled with grain.
Busy was she in the orchards—
The rich fruit swings o’erhead,
While the low boughs, overladen,
Lie prone on the paths we tread.
Peaches with coats of velvet;
Apples in satin fine;
Purple grapes by the river,
Where the great coils twist and twine.
For these do we bless the summer,
So fervid, and strong, and sweet;
Autumn but touches and ripens
As he follows her flying feet.
Then sing, oh! sing her praises,
Ye singers with throats in tune;
While the fruit and corn hang heavy,
All under the harvest moon.
3. Wings to Fly Above the Circumstances
by Anonymous
Summer wind gives wings
to fly
Far above the mountains
high
Eagles soaring over mountain
tops
Life giving wind will never
stop
The winds of change will
come and go
The trees they sway
to and fro
The summer wind it
touches the soul
It beckons us to
reach our goal
Where God reaches out
to draw us in
To His precious love
free from sin
4. The Summer Shower
by Thomas Buchanan Read
Before the stout harvesters falleth the grain,
As when the strong stormwind is reaping the plain,
And loiters the boy in the briery lane;
But yonder aslant comes the silvery rain,
Like a long line of spears brightly burnished and tall.
Adown the white highway like cavalry fleet,
It dashes the dust with its numberless feet.
Like a murmurless school, in their leafy retreat,
The wild birds sit listening the drops round them beat;
And the boy crouches close to the blackberry wall.
The swallows alone take the storm on the wing,
And, taunting the tree-sheltered laborers, sing.
Like pebbles the rain breaks the face of the spring,
While a bubble darts up from each widening ring;
And the boy in dismay hears the loud shower fall.
But soon are the harvesters tossing their sheaves;
The robin darts out from his bower of leaves;
The wren peereth forth from the moss-covered eaves;
And the rain-spattered urchin now gladly perceives
That the beautiful bow bendeth over them all.
5. The Beginning of Summer
by Bai Juyi
At the rise of summer a hundred beasts and trees
Join in gladness that the season bids them thrive.
Stags and does frolic in the deep woods;
Snakes and insects are pleased by the rank grass.
Wingèd birds love the thick leaves;
Scaly fish enjoy the fresh weeds.
But to one place Summer forgot to come;
I alone am left like a withered straw …
Banished to the world’s end;
Flesh and bone all in distant ways.
From my native-place no tidings come;
Rebel troops flood the land with war.
Sullen grief, in the end, what will it bring?
I am only wearing my own heart away.
Better far to let both body and mind
Blindly yield to the fate that Heaven made.
Hsün-yang abounds in good wine;
I will fill my cup and never let it be dry.
On Pen River fish are cheap as mud;
Early and late I will eat them, boiled and fried.
With morning rice at the temple near the hill,
And evening wine at the island on the lake …
Why should my thoughts turn to my native land?
For in this place one could well end one’s age.
6. Summer’s Obsequies
by Emily Dickinson
The gentian weaves her fringes,
The maple’s loom is red.
My departing blossoms
Obviate parade.
A brief, but patient illness,
An hour to prepare;
And one, below this morning,
Is where the angels are.
It was a short procession, —
The bobolink was there,
An aged bee addressed us,
And then we knelt in prayer.
We trust that she was willing, —
We ask that we may be.
Summer, sister, seraph,
Let us go with thee!
In the name of the bee
And of the butterfly
And of the breeze, amen!
7. Summer is Coming
by Dora
“Summer is coming!” the soft breezes whisper;
“Summer is coming!” the glad birdies sing.
Summer is coming—I hear her quick footsteps;
Take your last look at the beautiful Spring.
Lightly she steps from her throne in the woodlands:
“Summer is coming, and I cannot stay;
Two of my children have crept from my bosom:
April has left me but lingering May.
“What tho’ bright Summer is crownèd with roses.
Deep in the forest Arbutus doth hide;
I am the herald of all the rejoicing;
Why must June always disown me?” she cried.
Down in the meadow she stoops to the daisies,
Plucks the first bloom from the apple-tree’s bough:
“Autumn will rob me of all the sweet apples;
I will take one from her store of them now.”
Summer is coming! I hear the glad echo;
Clearly it rings o’er the mountain and plain.
Sorrowful Spring leaves the beautiful woodlands,
Bright, happy Summer begins her sweet reign.
Short Summer Poems
Sometimes, a few simple words are all that’s needed to capture the essence of summer. Short poetries about summer are perfect for this purpose, distilling the beauty and magic of the season into a few carefully chosen lines.
1. The Bee Is not Afraid of Me
by Emily Dickinson
The bee is not afraid of me,
I know the butterfly;
The pretty people in the woods
Receive me cordially.
The brooks laugh louder when I come,
The breezes madder play.
Wherefore, mine eyes, thy silver mists?
Wherefore, O summer’s day?
2. I Know a Place Where Summer Strives
by Emily Dickinson
I know a place where summer strives
With such a practised frost,
She each year leads her daisies back,
Recording briefly, “Lost.”
But when the south wind stirs the pools
And struggles in the lanes,
Her heart misgives her for her vow,
And she pours soft refrains
Into the lap of adamant,
And spices, and the dew,
That stiffens quietly to quartz,
Upon her amber shoe.
3. Aftermath
by Emily Dickinson
The murmuring of bees has ceased;
But murmuring of some
Posterior, prophetic,
Has simultaneous come, —
The lower metres of the year,
When nature’s laugh is done, —
The Revelations of the book
Whose Genesis is June.
4. Nature’s Changes
by Emily Dickinson
The springtime’s pallid landscape
Will glow like bright bouquet,
Though drifted deep in parian
The village lies to-day.
The lilacs, bending many a year,
With purple load will hang;
The bees will not forget the tune
Their old forefathers sang.
The rose will redden in the bog,
The aster on the hill
Her everlasting fashion set,
And covenant gentians frill,
Till summer folds her miracle
As women do their gown,
Or priests adjust the symbols
When sacrament is done.
5. As Imperceptibly as Grief
by Emily Dickinson
As imperceptibly as grief
The summer lapsed away, —
Too imperceptible, at last,
To seem like perfidy.
A quietness distilled,
As twilight long begun,
Or Nature, spending with herself
Sequestered afternoon.
The dusk drew earlier in,
The morning foreign shone, —
A courteous, yet harrowing grace,
As guest who would be gone.
And thus, without a wing,
Or service of a keel,
Our summer made her light escape
Into the beautiful.
6. Summer Is O’er
by Ed Blair
Old Winter’s nigh—the landscape tells me so,
The trees are bare, their dead leaves piled below;
Between bare banks the chilly waters flow.
The Summer’s o’er.
Between the cold gray rifts the moon peeps through
While on her nightly round, as if to view
Man’s work complete and that still yet to do.
The Summer’s o’er.
Each cow and horse securely in its stall
In barn and shed safe from the Winter’s squall,
The coal bin full—let welcome snowflakes fall—
The Summer’s o’er.
7. Spring and Summer
by Kate Slaughter McKinney
I heard a footstep on the hill,
The little brook began to trill,
I looked—a sweet and childlike face,
Reflected like a blooming vase,
Was smiling from the water clear,
With buttercups behind her ear.
A flock of swallows hove in sight,
On came the summer clad in white,
With sunshine falling from her hair
Upon her shoulders white and bare,
And pressing through the tangled grass,
A daisy rose to watch her pass.
8. Summer Glory
by Annette Wynne
Is it true
That you
Are indeed
The shriveled seed
In spring I buried underground
Not a bit of green around?
Now you are
Full of light
As a star;
Out of night
Came this glory—grew to this
Little piece of perfect bliss;
O the joy to know
I helped you grow;
What mighty one would not be
Small helper in such glorious ministry!
Long Summer Poems
These long poetries about summer offer a more immersive and detailed view of summer, inviting readers to savor every moment.
1. Summer Images
by John Clare
Now swarthy Summer, by rude health embrowned,
Precedence takes of rosy fingered Spring;
And laughing Joy, with wild flowers prank’d, and crown’d,
A wild and giddy thing,
And Health robust, from every care unbound,
Come on the zephyr’s wing,
And cheer the toiling clown.
Happy as holiday-enjoying face,
Loud tongued, and “merry as a marriage bell,”
Thy lightsome step sheds joy in every place;
And where the troubled dwell,
Thy witching charms wean them of half their cares;
And from thy sunny spell,
They greet joy unawares.
Then with thy sultry locks all loose and rude,
And mantle laced with gems of garish light,
Come as of wont; for I would fain intrude,
And in the world’s despite,
Share the rude wealth that thy own heart beguiles;
If haply so I might
Win pleasure from thy smiles.
Me not the noise of brawling pleasure cheers,
In nightly revels or in city streets;
But joys which soothe, and not distract the ears,
That one at leisure meets
In the green woods, and meadows summer-shorn,
Or fields, where bee-fly greets
The ear with mellow horn.
The green-swathed grasshopper, on treble pipe,
Sings there, and dances, in mad-hearted pranks;
There bees go courting every flower that’s ripe,
On baulks and sunny banks;
And droning dragon-fly, on rude bassoon,
Attempts to give God thanks
In no discordant tune.
The speckled thrush, by self-delight embued,
There sings unto himself for joy’s amends,
And drinks the honey dew of solitude.
There Happiness attends
With inbred Joy until the heart o’erflow,
Of which the world’s rude friends,
Nought heeding, nothing know.
There the gay river, laughing as it goes,
Plashes with easy wave its flaggy sides,
And to the calm of heart, in calmness shows
What pleasure there abides,
To trace its sedgy banks, from trouble free:
Spots Solitude provides
To muse, and happy be.
There ruminating ‘neath some pleasant bush,
On sweet silk grass I stretch me at mine ease,
Where I can pillow on the yielding rush;
And, acting as I please,
Drop into pleasant dreams; or musing lie,
Mark the wind-shaken trees,
And cloud-betravelled sky.
There think me how some barter joy for care,
And waste life’s summer-health in riot rude,
Of nature, nor of nature’s sweets aware.
When passions vain intrude,
These, by calm musings, softened are and still;
And the heart’s better mood
Feels sick of doing ill.
There I can live, and at my leisure seek
Joys far from cold restraints–not fearing pride–
Free as the winds, that breathe upon my cheek
Rude health, so long denied.
Here poor Integrity can sit at ease,
And list self-satisfied
The song of honey-bees.
The green lane now I traverse, where it goes
Nought guessing, till some sudden turn espies
Rude batter’d finger post, that stooping shows
Where the snug mystery lies;
And then a mossy spire, with ivy crown,
Cheers up the short surprise,
And shows a peeping town.
I see the wild flowers, in their summer morn
Of beauty, feeding on joy’s luscious hours;
The gay convolvulus, wreathing round the thorn,
Agape for honey showers;
And slender kingcup, burnished with the dew
Of morning’s early hours,
Like gold yminted new.
And mark by rustic bridge, o’er shallow stream,
Cow-tending boy, to toil unreconciled,
Absorbed as in some vagrant summer dream;
Who now, in gestures wild,
Starts dancing to his shadow on the wall,
Feeling self-gratified,
Nor fearing human thrall.
Or thread the sunny valley laced with streams,
Or forests rude, and the o’ershadow’d brims
Of simple ponds, where idle shepherd dreams,
Stretching his listless limbs;
Or trace hay-scented meadows, smooth and long,
Where joy’s wild impulse swims
In one continued song.
I love at early morn, from new mown swath,
To see the startled frog his route pursue;
To mark while, leaping o’er the dripping path,
His bright sides scatter dew,
The early lark that from its bustle flies,
To hail his matin new;
And watch him to the skies.
To note on hedgerow baulks, in moisture sprent,
The jetty snail creep from the mossy thorn,
With earnest heed, and tremulous intent,
Frail brother of the morn,
That from the tiny bent’s dew-misted leaves
Withdraws his timid horn,
And fearful vision weaves.
Or swallow heed on smoke-tanned chimney top,
Wont to be first unsealing Morning’s eye,
Ere yet the bee hath gleaned one wayward drop
Of honey on his thigh;
To see him seek morn’s airy couch to sing,
Until the golden sky
Bepaint his russet wing.
Or sauntering boy by tanning corn to spy,
With clapping noise to startle birds away,
And hear him bawl to every passer by
To know the hour of day;
While the uncradled breezes, fresh and strong,
With waking blossoms play,
And breathe Æolian song.
I love the south-west wind, or low or loud,
And not the less when sudden drops of rain
Moisten my glowing cheek from ebon cloud,
Threatening soft showers again,
That over lands new ploughed and meadow grounds,
Summer’s sweet breath unchain,
And wake harmonious sounds.
Rich music breathes in Summer’s every sound;
And in her harmony of varied greens,
Woods, meadows, hedge-rows, corn-fields, all around
Much beauty intervenes,
Filling with harmony the ear and eye;
While o’er the mingling scenes
Far spreads the laughing sky.
See, how the wind-enamoured aspen leaves
Turn up their silver lining to the sun!
And hark! the rustling noise, that oft deceives,
And makes the sheep-boy run:
The sound so mimics fast-approaching showers,
He thinks the rain’s begun,
And hastes to sheltering bowers.
But now the evening curdles dank and grey,
Changing her watchet hue for sombre weed;
And moping owls, to close the lids of day,
On drowsy wing proceed;
While chickering crickets, tremulous and long,
Light’s farewell inly heed,
And give it parting song.
The pranking bat its flighty circlet makes;
The glow-worm burnishes its lamp anew;
O’er meadows dew-besprent, the beetle wakes
Inquiries ever new,
Teazing each passing ear with murmurs vain,
As wanting to pursue
His homeward path again.
Hark! ’tis the melody of distant bells
That on the wind with pleasing hum rebounds
By fitful starts, then musically swells
O’er the dim stilly grounds;
While on the meadow-bridge the pausing boy
Listens the mellow sounds,
And hums in vacant joy.
Now homeward-bound, the hedger bundles round
His evening faggot, and with every stride
His leathern doublet leaves a rustling sound,
Till silly sheep beside
His path start tremulous, and once again
Look back dissatisfied,
And scour the dewy plain.
How sweet the soothing calmness that distills
O’er the heart’s every sense its opiate dews,
In meek-eyed moods and ever balmy trills!
That softens and subdues,
With gentle Quiet’s bland and sober train,
Which dreamy eve renews
In many a mellow strain!
I love to walk the fields, they are to me
A legacy no evil can destroy;
They, like a spell, set every rapture free
That cheer’d me when a boy.
Play–pastime–all Time’s blotting pen conceal’d,
Comes like a new-born joy,
To greet me in the field.
For Nature’s objects ever harmonize
With emulous Taste, that vulgar deed annoys;
Which loves in pensive moods to sympathize,
And meet vibrating joys
Pastimes, the Muse employs,
Vain and obtrusive themes.
2. A Summer Longing
by George Arnold
I must away to the wooded hills and vales,
Where broad, slow streams flow cool and silently
And idle barges flap their listless sails.
For me the summer sunset glows and pales,
And green fields wait for me.
I long for shadowy founts, where the birds
Twitter and chirp at noon from every tree;
I long for blossomed leaves and lowing herds;
And Nature’s voices say in mystic words,
“The green fields wait for thee.”
I dream of uplands, where the primrose shines
And waves her yellow lamps above the lea;
Of tangled copses, swung with trailing vines;
Of open vistas, skirted with tall pines,
Where green fields wait for me.
I think of long, sweet afternoons, when I
May lie and listen to the distant sea,
Or hear the breezes in the reeds that sigh,
Or insect voices chirping shrill and dry,
In fields that wait for me.
These dreams of summer come to bid me find
The forest’s shade, the wild bird’s melody,
While summer’s rosy wreaths for me are twined,
While summer’s fragrance lingers on the wind,
And green fields wait for me.
3. Summer Rain
by Edmund Clarence Stedman
Yestermorn the air was dry
As the winds of Araby,
While the sun, with pitiless heat,
Glared upon the glaring street,
And the meadow fountains sealed,
Till the people everywhere,
And the cattle in the field,
And the birds in middle air,
And the thirsty little flowers,
Sent to heaven a fainting prayer
For the blessed summer showers.
Not in vain the prayer was said;
For at sunset, overhead,
Sailing from the gorgeous West,
Came the pioneers, abreast,
Of a wondrous argosy,—
The Armada of the sky!
Far along I saw them sail,
Wafted by an upper gale;
Saw them, on their lustrous route,
Fling a thousand banners out:
Yellow, violet, crimson, blue,
Orange, sapphire,—every hue
That the gates of Heaven put on,
To the sainted eyes of John,
In that hallowed Patmos isle
Their skyey pennons wore; and while
I drank the glory of the sight
Sunset faded into night.
Then diverging, far and wide,
To the dim horizon’s side,
Silently and swiftly there,
Every galleon of the air,
Manned by some celestial crew,
Out its precious cargo threw,
And the gentle summer rain
Cooled the fevered Earth again.
Through the night I heard it fall
Tenderly and musical;
And this morning not a sigh
Of wind uplifts the briony leaves,
But the ashen-tinted sky
Still for earthly turmoil grieves,
While the melody of the rain,
Dropping on the window-pane,
On the lilac and the rose,
Round us all its pleasance throws,
Till our souls are yielded wholly
To its constant melancholy,
And, like the burden of its song,
Passionate moments glide along.
Pinks and hyacinths perfume
All our garden-fronted room;
Hither, close beside me, Love!
Do not whisper, do not move.
Here we two will softly stay,
Side by side, the livelong day.
Lean thy head upon my breast:
Ever shall it give thee rest,
Ever would I gaze to meet
Eyes of thine up-glancing, Sweet!
What enchanted dreams are ours!
While the murmur of the showers
Dropping on the tranquil ground,
Dropping on the leaves and flowers,
Wraps our yearning souls around
In the drapery of its sound.
Still the plenteous streamlets fall:
Here two hearts are all in all
To each other; and they beat
With no evanescent heat,
But softly, steadily, hour by hour,
With the calm, melodious power
Of the gentle summer rain,
That in Heaven so long hath lain,
And from out that shoreless sea
Pours its blessings tenderly.
Freer yet its currents swell!
Here are streams that flow as well,
Rivulets of the constant heart;
But a little space apart
Glide they now, and soon shall run,
Love-united, into one.
It shall chance, in future days,
That again the lurid rays
Of that hidden sun shall shine
On the floweret and the vine,
And again the meadow-springs
Fly away on misty wings:
But no glare of Fate adverse
Shall on us achieve its curse,
Never any baneful gleam
Waste our clear, perennial stream;
For its fountains lie below
That malign and ominous glow,—
Lie in shadowy grottoes cool,
Where all kindly spirits rule;
Calmly ever shall it flow
Toward the waters of the sea,—
That serene Eternity!
4. On the Move
by Them Gunn
The blue jay scuffling in the bushes follows
Some hidden purpose, and the gust of birds
That spurts across the field, the wheeling swallows,
Has nested in the trees and undergrowth.
Seeking their instinct, or their poise, or both,
One moves with an uncertain violence
Under the dust thrown by a baffled sense
Or the dull thunder of approximate words.
On motorcycles, up the road, they come:
Small, black, as flies hanging in heat, the Boys,
Until the distance throws them forth, their hum
Bulges to thunder held by calf and thigh.
In goggles, donned impersonality,
In gleaming jackets trophied with the dust,
They strap in doubt – by hiding it, robust –
And almost hear a meaning in their noise.
Exact conclusion of their hardiness
Has no shape yet, but from known whereabouts
They ride, direction where the tyres press.
They scare a flight of birds across the field:
Much that is natural, to the will must yield.
Men manufacture both machine and soul,
And use what they imperfectly control
To dare a future from the taken routes.
It is a part solution, after all.
One is not necessarily discord
On earth; or damned because, half animal,
One lacks direct instinct, because one wakes
Afloat on movement that divides and breaks.
One joins the movement in a valueless world,
Choosing it, till, both hurler and the hurled,
One moves as well, always toward, toward.
A minute holds them, who have come to go:
The self-defined, astride the created will
They burst away; the towns they travel through
Are home for neither bird nor holiness,
For birds and saints complete their purposes.
At worst, one is in motion; and at best,
Reaching no absolute, in which to rest,
One is always nearer by not keeping still.
5. The Summer’s Tale Is Told
by Ellen P. Allerton
The twilight ends; the last faint crimson stain
Has faded from the west; the deep blue sky,
Deeper and darker grows, and once again
God’s lamps are lighted in the dome on high.
Above yon distant swell, where trailing clouds
Hung low and black at noon,
Now, round and red, from out their torn white shrouds,
Steps forth the harvest moon.
Thus she came forth last night, thus will she come
The next night and the next. Oh, magic time!
The full moon wanes not at the harvest home,
And night’s grand poem flows in even rhyme.
Silent the thresher stands, where hills of gold,
Heaped high on earth’s shorn breast,
Loom in the moonlight. Summer’s tale is told;
The sickle lies in rest.
The night has wondrous voices. At my door
I sit and listen to its many tones.
The wind comes through the trees with muffled roar,
And round the moonlit gables sadly moans.
The raccoon scouts among the stricken corn
With disappointed cry;
A dismal owl sends out his note forlorn;
One whippowil sings nigh.
And there is other music. All the grass
Is peopled with a crowd of tiny things;
We see them not, yet crush them as we pass.
These sing all night, and clap their puny wings;
Beneath my very feet calls clear and strong
A cricket, slyly hid,
While at my elbow—well I know his song—
Rattles a katydid.
Poor, puny things! your gala nears its end.
A subtle change steals over vale and hill;
There comes a hint of autumn in the wind
That moans about the roof; the nights are chill;
Short and yet shorter grows each passing day;—
The year is waxing old.
The frost waits in the north, not far away—
The summer’s tale is told.
6. Midsummer in the Catskills
by John Burroughs
The strident hum of sickle-bar,
Like giant insect heard afar,
Is on the air again;
I see the mower where he rides
Above the level grassy tides
That flood the meadow plain.
The barns are fragrant with new hay,
Through open doors the swallows play
On wayward, glancing wing;
The bobolinks are on the oats,
And gorging stills the jocund throats
That made the meadows ring.
The cradlers twain, with right good-will,
Leave golden lines across the hill
Beneath the midday sun.
The cattle dream ‘neath leafy tent,
Or chew the cud of sweet content
Knee-deep in pond or run.
July is on her burning throne,
And binds the land with torrid zone,
That hastes the ripening grain;
While sleepers swelter in the night,
The lusty corn is gaining might
And darkening on the plain.
The butterflies sip nectar sweet
Where gummy milkweeds offer treat
Or catnip bids them stay.
On banded wing grasshoppers poise,
With hovering flight and shuffling noise,
Above the dusty way.
The thistle-bird, midsummer’s pet,
In billowy flight on wings of jet,
Is circling near his mate.
The silent waxwing’s pointed crest
Is seen above her orchard nest,
Where cherries linger late.
The dome of day o’erbrims with sound
From humming wings on errands bound
Above the sleeping fields;
The linden’s bloom faint scents the breeze,
And, sole and blessed ‘mid forest trees,
A honeyed harvest yields.
Poisèd and full is summer’s tide,
Brimming all the horizon wide,
In varied verdure dressed;
Its viewless currents surge and beat
In airy billows at my feet
Here on the mountain’s crest.
Through pearly depths I see the farms,
Where sweating forms and bronzèd arms
Reap in the land’s increase;
In ripe repose the forests stand,
And veilèd heights on every hand
Swim in a sea of peace.
Summer Poems That Rhyme
Rhyme is a powerful tool in poetry, adding a musical quality to the words and enhancing their emotional impact. Poems about summer with rhyming words that rhyme are especially popular, offering a playful and fun way to explore the season.
1. Summer
by James Russell Lowell
Now is the high tide of the year,
And whatever of life hath ebbed away
Comes flooding back with a ripply cheer,
Into every bare inlet and creek and bay.
We may shut our eyes, but we can not help knowing
That skies are clear and grass is growing;
The breeze comes whispering in our ear,
That dandelions are blossoming near,
That maize has sprouted, that streams are flowing,
That the river is bluer than the sky,
That the robin is plastering his house hard by;
And if the breeze kept the good news back
For other couriers we should not lack;
We could guess it all by yon heifer’s lowing,—
And hark! how clear bold chanticleer,
Warmed with the new wine of the year,
Tells all in his lusty crowing.
2. Summer Evening
by John Clare
The frog half fearful jumps across the path,
And little mouse that leaves its hole at eve
Nimbles with timid dread beneath the swath;
My rustling steps awhile their joys deceive,
Till past, and then the cricket sings more strong,
And grasshoppers in merry moods still wear
The short night weary with their fretting song.
Up from behind the molehill jumps the hare,
Cheat of his chosen bed, and from the bank
The yellowhammer flutters in short fears
From off its nest hid in the grasses rank,
And drops again when no more noise it hears.
Thus nature’s human link and endless thrall,
Proud man, still seems the enemy of all.
3. Natures Gift
by Charlie Smith
It’s how the stars are lit at night
and how the dew drops glisten
How evening shadows mock the light
and it’s how the silence listens
From the gentle sway of trees
that bid such fond adieu
Songs in a summer breeze
a voice so clear, so true
The glory of such symmetry
so more than fills the eye
To the beauty of such poetry
this hopeful heart draws nigh
In natural peace all love is born
To live and thrive each blessed morn
4. To a June Bug
by John Watt
My front porch welcomes your return each year.
Built like a Sherman tank with wings – the night
is filled with music to the springtime ear,
the buzz and clatter of your noisy flight.
Announcing to the world it now is June,
you fly into our lives and cast your spell,
reminding us that summer beckons soon –
sweet season of youth’s freedom from school bell.
Ah yes, first love that bloomed in June’s warm sun –
that first kiss, blushing like a timid squirrel
and holding hands in public with the one
who showed me I could be loved by a girl.
Your tenure brief; then by July’s first day,
like childhood and young love, you’ve flown away.
5. Midsummer
by William Cullen Bryant
A power is on the earth and in the air,
From which the vital spirit shrinks afraid,
And shelters him, in nooks of deepest shade,
From the hot steam and from the fiery glare.
Look forth upon the earth—her thousand plants
Are smitten, even the dark sun-loving maize
Faints in the field beneath the torrid blaze;
The herd beside the shaded fountain pants;
For life is driven from all the landscape brown;
The bird has sought his tree, the snake his den,
The trout floats dead in the hot stream, and men
Drop by the sun-stroke in the populous town;
As if the Day of Fire had dawned and Sent
Its deadly breath into the firmament.
6. Gentle Summer Rain
by Destroyer A
Bespoken verse that lightens her refrain
before the time they met – her steps commence.
She listens to the soft and rhythmic thrum,
her love turned to escape and cloudy string
Where nimbus mistletoe fell, tears to become
Their kiss of Autumn was symbolic ring.
The first light cotton mists with summer rays
While skyward cheerful laughs adorn the land,
their ceremonial dance diffuses grays,
affectionate embrace, where dreams expand.
Upon September’s sky the raindrops gleam
With half of hidden Sun to laugh and beam.
Summer Poems for Children
These summer poems for kids are perfect for young readers, introducing them to the beauty and magic of the season in a way that is both fun and educational.
1. Summer’s Splendor by the Sea
by Patricia L. Cisco
Summer’s splendor by the sea,
a gentle, blue serenity.
Caressing rays of golden sun,
blushing, bronzing all who come.
Enticed by its romantic lure,
lovers stroll the sandy shore.
Hushing rhythm of the waves
and salty, misty ocean sprays.
Sea birds echo call of cries,
pierce the deep blue azure skies.
Dolphins dancing on their way
across the sea out to the bay.
A glistening, shiny, sun-soaked day.
All young and old alike at play,
building castles by the sea,
jumping waves and spirits free.
No place on earth as perfect to be
as summer’s splendor by the sea!
2. Bed in Summer
In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle-light.
In summer, quite the other way,
I have to go to bed by day.
I have to go to bed and see
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people’s feet
Still going past me in the street.
And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play,
To have to go to bed by day?
3. Missing Summer
by Destinee
The grass so green,
the sun so bright.
Life seems a dream,
no worries in sight.
Tans and tank tops,
laughter and bliss.
Each moment passes
without even a miss.
Friends and cookouts,
memories and laughs.
Good times to remember,
but how long will it last?
The grass soon fades,
leaves begin to fall.
School replaces sleepovers.
Oh, I’ll miss it all.
4. In the Mountains on a Summer Day
by Li Po
Gently I stir a white feather fan,
With open shirt sitting in a green wood.
I take off my cap and hang it on a jutting stone;
A wind from the pine-trees trickles on my bare head.
5. Season of Summer
by Anonymous
The warmth of Summer is coming soon
the season we look for in the month of June
Children are free from school once more
the parks are full of kites that soar
of different colors in the sky
and cloud formations way up high
The beaches are crowded as they can be
and people visiting the Florida Key
Some days will be unbearably hot
and the comfort of coolness will be sought
Shade trees used by one and all
from the biggest of people, to the small
Swimming pools filled to the top everywhere
and all the children, not having a care
Seems like nothing bothers a child at ten
just like we were, way back then
6. It’s Hot
by Shel Silverstein
It’s hot!
I can’t get cool,
I’ve drunk a quart of lemonade.
I think I’ll take my shoes off
And sit around in the shade.
It’s hot!
My back is sticky.
The sweat rolls down my chin.
I think I’ll take my clothes off
And sit around in my skin.
It’s hot!
I’ve tried with ’lectric fans,
And pools and ice cream cones.
I think I’ll take my skin off
And sit around in my bones.
It’s still hot!
7. Summer at Blue Creek, North Carolina
by Jack Gilbert
There was no water at my grandfather’s
when I was a kid and would go for it
with two zinc buckets. Down the path,
past the cow by the foundation where
the fine people’s house was before
they arranged to have it burned down.
To the neighbor’s cool well. Would
come back with pails too heavy,
so my mouth pulled out of shape.
I see myself, but from the outside.
I keep trying to feel who I was,
and cannot. Hear clearly the sound
the bucket made hitting the sides
of the stone well going down,
but never the sound of me.
8. In Summer
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
Oh, summer has clothed the earth
In a cloak from the loom of the sun!
And a mantle, too, of the skies’ soft blue,
And a belt where the rivers run.
And now for the kiss of the wind,
And the touch of the air’s soft hands,
With the rest from strife and the heat of life,
With the freedom of lakes and lands.
I envy the farmer’s boy
Who sings as he follows the plow;
While the shining green of the young blades lean
To the breezes that cool his brow.
He sings to the dewy morn,
No thought of another’s ear;
But the song he sings is a chant for kings
And the whole wide world to hear.
He sings of the joys of life,
Of the pleasures of work and rest,
From an o’erfull heart, without aim or art;
‘T is a song of the merriest.
O ye who toil in the town,
And ye who moil in the mart,
Hear the artless song, and your faith made strong
Shall renew your joy of heart.
Oh, poor were the worth of the world
If never a song were heard,—
If the sting of grief had no relief,
And never a heart were stirred.
So, long as the streams run down,
And as long as the robins trill,
Let us taunt old Care with a merry air,
And sing in the face of ill.
Summer Poems about the Sun
The sun is the quintessential symbol of summer, and many poets have been inspired to write about its warmth and radiance. These poems capture the beauty and power of the sun, inviting readers to bask in its glow.
1. Summer Sun
by Robert Louis Stevenson
Great is the sun, and wide he goes
Through empty heaven without repose;
And in the blue and glowing days
More thick than rain he showers his rays.
Though closer still the blinds we pull
To keep the shady parlour cool,
Yet he will find a chink or two
To slip his golden fingers through.
The dusty attic spider-clad
He, through the keyhole, maketh glad;
And through the broken edge of tiles
Into the laddered hay-loft smiles.
Meantime his golden face around
He bares to all the garden ground,
And sheds a warm and glittering look
Among the ivy’s inmost nook.
Above the hills, along the blue,
Round the bright air with footing true,
To please the child, to paint the rose,
The gardener of the World, he goes.
2. An Evening’s Stroll
by Ed Blair
When July’s sun has spent her fierceness on
The sweltering earth; I love to ramble then
Along the narrow banks of dear Elm Creek
And be for one short hour a boy again.
To make the rocks skip o’er the waters smooth
And see the frogs plunge from the water’s edge,
And hear the gentle cooing of the dove
Among the elms and from the distant hedge.
Oh, boyhood days ne’er come so near to me
As in these strolls in Summer eve’s twilight;
I view again the scenes I love so well
And watch the gentle coming of the night.
3. At Noon
by Reginald Gibbons
The thick-walled room’s cave-darkness,
cool in summer, soothes
by saying, This is the truth, not the taut
cicada-strummed daylight.
Rest here, out of the flame—the thick air’s
stirred by the fan’s four
slow-moving spoons; under the house the stone
has its feet in deep water.
Outside, even the sun god, dressed in this life
as a lizard, abruptly rises
on stiff legs and descends blasé toward the shadows.
4. Long Island Sound
by Emma Lazarus
I see it as it looked one afternoon
In August,— by a fresh soft breeze o’erblown.
The swiftness of the tide, the light thereon,
A far-off sail, white as a crescent moon.
The shining waters with pale currents strewn,
The quiet fishing-smacks, the Eastern cove,
The semi-circle of its dark, green grove.
The luminous grasses, and the merry sun
In the grave sky; the sparkle far and wide,
Laughter of unseen children, cheerful chirp
Of crickets, and low lisp of rippling tide,
Light summer clouds fantastical as sleep
Changing unnoted while I gazed thereon.
All these fair sounds and sights I made my own.
5. Sun Dance
by Destroyer A
Bright yellow sparks glisten around the landscape
Sheer environment expose
Warmth slinks down every step
So– Invigorating
Spur like rays muster in long light
The wolves wait to howl
Soon–Bunch of flowers
Huddle in with sunlit love
Luminous rave
6. One with the Sun
by A.F. Moritz
Child
one with the sun
in trackless fields
of yellow grass and thistle, scent
of humid heavy air and the wing music
of bees and flies.
Child, slender
nakedness to itself unknown,
true colour of the light
dispersed invisibly
or glowing around the black hulls
of distant thunderheads, around
the grasshopper’s countenance,
solemn, vigilant and wise.
Green apples, poured full
of density, of crispness, float unmoved
under leaves on the slope. Brown
fallen apples nest
in secret whorls of grass. The apple tree:
alone in so much space. And below
in the woods by the water
a sweet dead branch
cracks lightly
in the shadow in the wind.
But here is an old track
through the grass head-high
to a child: who
made it? They must have
passed and passed by this one tree,
by the abandoned, tireless car
where rabbits peer out, and the circle
of black embers,
cans, springs, skeletons
of furniture. They too
passed here many times
on their way from the street’s end
to the oaks that screen
the river. There
the sun is nesting now, night
rises with pale flutterings
of white wings from roots
of plants and the black water.
7. The Cicada in the Firs
by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
Charm of the vibrant, white September sun—
How tower the firs to take it, tranced and still!
Their scant ranks crown the pale, round pasture-hill,
And watch, far down, the austere waters run
Their circuit thro’ the serious marshes dun.
No bird-call stirs the blue; but strangely thrill
The blunt faced, brown cicada’s wing-notes shrill,
A web of silver o’er the silence spun.
O zithern-winged musician, whence it came
I wonder, this insistent song of thine!
Did once the highest string of Summer’s lyre,
Snapt on some tense chord slender as a flame,
Take form again in these vibrations fine
That o’er the tranquil spheres of noon aspire?
8. On the Grasshopper and Cricket
by John Keats
The Poetry of earth is never dead:
When all the birds are faint with the hot sun,
And hide in cooling trees, a voice will run
From hedge to hedge about the new-mown mead;
That is the Grasshopper’s—he takes the lead
In summer luxury—he has never done
With his delights; for when tired out with fun
He rests at ease beneath some pleasant weed.
The poetry of earth is ceasing never:
On a lone winter evening, when the frost
Has wrought a silence, from the stove there shrills
The Cricket’s song, in warmth increasing ever,
And seems to one in drowsiness half lost,
The Grasshopper’s among some grassy hills.
Summer Poems and Love
These summer love poems explore the many facets of love, from infatuation and attraction to commitment and devotion. Let’s feel the warmth of love!
1. Shine
by Greta Robinson
Shine as a source of endless light
whose rainbows of colour deter the night
where daydreams are gentle as doves in flight
and sleep the sleep of angels
Shine like a shower of soft moonbeams
Inhabit the sea of a thousand dreams
where laughter and love are timeless themes
and sleep the sleep of angels
Shine like the sun in a golden sky
On warm, sultry evenings, a fragrance, a sigh
an echo of summer as life passes by
and sleep the sleep of angels
2. Summer
by Frank Lima
I wanted to be sure this was our island
so we could walk between the long stars by the sea
though your hips are slight and caught in the air
like a moth at the end of a river around my arms
I am unable to understand the sun your dizzy spells
when you form a hand around me on the sand
I offer you my terrible sanity
the eternal voice that keeps me from reaching you
though we are close to each other every autumn
I feel the desperation of a giant freezing in cement
when I touch the door you’re pressed against
the color of your letter that reminds me of flamingos
isn’t that what you mean?
the pleasure of hands and
lips wetter than the ocean
or the brilliant pain of
breathless teeth in a
turbulent dream on a roof
while I thought of nothing
else except you against
the sky as I unfolded you
like my very life a liquid
signal of enormous love we
invented like a comet that
splits the air between us!
the earth looks shiny wrapped in steam and ermine
tired of us perspiring at every chance on the floor
below I bring you an ash tray out of love for the
ice palace because it is the end of summer the end
of the sun because you are in season like a blue
rug you are my favorite violin when you sit and
peel my eyes with your great surfaces seem intimate
when we merely touch the thread of life and kiss
3. Carpe Noctem
by John Gondolf
Up above the moon shines brightly;
starlight touches earth so lightly;
passions teasing impolitely.
Midnight whispers, “Carpe noctem.”
Blowing soft the summer breezes
through her hair as nighttime pleases,
and the moonlight softly teases.
Voices urging, “Carpe noctem.”
Standing close our bodies facing;
hand in hand our fingers lacing;
gentle touches, hearts are racing.
Longings begging, “Carpe noctem.”
Wonder where her thoughts are leading;
do my eyes reveal my pleading?
Will she, with her voice conceding,
whisper softly, “Carpe noctem?”
5. Your Love I’ll Ever Bear
by Besma Riabi Dziri
I want to word my very Love for you
though as a shy child, I start to stammer
a beloved Mother, my sole bijou
as I am of your prime Land enamoured.
A rose breathing the scent of your terra
born and bred knowing no other home soil
how can I bear the burn of your Summer
anger and worry within my chest boil.
I want to paint my very pride in you
with drops of my blood and ivory star
then draw your nature and beauty anew
how would my poetry meet who you are?
To my dear mother, shall I, You compare?
TUNISIA, Your Love, I’ll ever bear.
6. My Love
by Andrea Dietrich
My love is gone, but he has not gone far.
I see his golden locks in waves of wheat,
the blaze of his blue eyes in each bright star;
in dewy blooms of red, his lips so sweet;
his smile in morning sun I rise to greet.
Oh, whether it be day or night, I swear
I see my wondrous lover everywhere!
His scent is with me too, for I inhale
him as I walk through woods of tall pine trees.
I taste him in fresh rain, and I can tell
that he is near me when a summer breeze
caresses me; my mind can be at ease!
For though he’s gone, I know my love will be
In beauty evermore surrounding me.
7. Summer Love Sonnet
by Daniel Turner
What’s not to love about a summer day?
Kissed by the sun, the warmth of its embrace
To feel the cleanse from sweat at work and play
While honeysuckle breezes cool my face
With hillsides blanketed in purple vetch
Magenta morning glories and light blues
Imagine all the butterflies they fetch
A scene to romance any poet’s muse
But when it gets too hot, I seek the shade
Barefoot in clover ‘neath tall sycamores
Or take a watermelon down to wade
A spring fed creek, to cool, while I explore
That evening, in the swing, I watch fireflies
Then pray I wake to see one more sunrise
8. Summer
by Tim Smith
Oh summer what have you done to me
so many flirtatious winks teasingly
undressing me with every wisp of
a welcomed heat filled breath
Oh summer, oh how you melt me
with those gazing sunrise eyes blinking
and those sweet high noon kisses swimming
fogging up another afternoon aviator sky
Oh summer your warm touches caress
and I’m a mess blushing into a golden
bronze affair wondering when you’re not there
if you will ever come back again
Oh summer your nights delight with fire
and a backyard breeze harmony underneath
a blanket of stars and a lemonade moon
hushed I swoon knowing I’m in love
9. Potd Good Night, Poets of Gold Pens
by Romios
All over this great planet we live,
Penning our thoughts, and love to give!
With our hearts, as lanterns so bright,
Writing with hearts into this summer night.
Pen thee, then, of nature’s fine beauty.
Quietly, we are world Muses on duty.
Creations we form of happiness and sorrow.
Moonlight and dreams, on which to borrow!
A hug from me, now.. close your eyes.
Tomorrow is both a gift and a surprise!
Haiku Summer Poems
Haiku summer poems distill the essence of the season into a few carefully crafted lines, inviting readers to savor the moment.
1. Summer
by Donna Jones
green leaves shadows dance
sunshine blinds curious eyes
dripping popsicle
2. Summer Haiku
by Timothy Hicks
summer downpour
the poor man takes off his hat
collecting diamonds
3. Spider Web
by Viv Wigley
filigree shimmers
sunlit dewdrop tiara
graces summer rose
4. Green Fingers
by Anne-Lise Andresen
Filled with fresh flowers
An understated beauty
Well-designed garden
Captures attention
Magic really takes place
It relieves my stress
Summer garden fair
Creative spirit revive
Beautiful touch
5. Summer
by David Mohn
summer’s lavish brush
canvas stroked in billowed swirls…
daydreams framed in blue
6. Patience
by Pandita SieteSantos
breezeless summer day –
motionless on lily pad
frog waits for victim
7. Loverly
by Andrea Dietrich
kissing in spring’s rain
your touch and sweet passion’s rush
in summer meadows
our bright autumn strolls
warm embraces and that glow
kissing in the snow
just you and me
in every season –
isn’t it loverly?
Summer Poems about Flowers
Summer is a time of abundance, and nowhere is this more evident than in the profusion of flowers that bloom during the season. Poets have been inspired by the beauty and fragrance of flowers, crafting poems that capture their essence in words.
1. More Than Enough
by Marge Piercy
The first lily of June opens its red mouth.
All over the sand road where we walk
multiflora rose climbs trees cascading
white or pink blossoms, simple, intense
the scene drifting like colored mist.
The arrowhead is spreading its creamy
clumps of flower and the blackberries
are blooming in the thickets. Season of
joy for the bee. The green will never
again be so green, so purely and lushly
new, grass lifting its wheaty seedheads
into the wind. Rich fresh wine
of June, we stagger into you smeared
with pollen, overcome as the turtle
laying her eggs in roadside sand.
2. All in June Poem
by William Henry Davies
A week ago I had a fire
To warm my feet, my hands and face;
Cold winds, that never make a friend,
Crept in and out of every place.
Today the fields are rich in grass,
And buttercups in thousands grow;
I’ll show the world where I have been–
With gold-dust seen on either shoe.
Till to my garden back I come,
Where bumble-bees for hours and hours
Sit on their soft, fat, velvet bums,
To wriggle out of hollow flowers.
3. Early Summer
by Ellwood Roberts
Full of joy is early Summer,
Growth and warmth and golden light;
Every day is crowned with beauty,
Full of loveliness the night.
Dazzling sunshine brings the roses,
Fills the whole bright world with bloom;
Day and night rejoice together,
Banished now are doubt and gloom.
Skies serene and loving woo us
To the woods and fields to-day;
Who would linger long when Nature
Calls him to her feast away?
Earth a veritable Eden
In the glowing sunlight gleams,
Life a grand and noble epic,
Viewed from such a standpoint seems.
Gladness reigns the wide world over,
Early Summer’s golden light
Fills each bosom with thanksgiving
For the season’s blessings bright.
Happy harvest days are coming,
Full of joy, throughout the land;
Where the fields of grain are waving,
Full-eared wheat in shocks shall stand.
Perfect days that pass too quickly,
One by one they come and go,
Each in turn reveals rare blessing,
Beauty passing all below.
Balmy air and bright green landscape,
Glowing eve and dewy dawn;
Sunlight’s gold on field and forest—
We shall grieve when these are gone.
Joyous time to him that loveth
Growth and warmth and golden light;
Day is full of blessed beauty,
Full of peace the dewy night.
Early Summer! time of roses,
All the earth is filled with bloom;
Every heart in thee rejoices,
Banished now are doubt and gloom.
4. Sunflower
by Luna
Every summer afternoon I sit in my porch,
And admire the most exquisite view,
Sun rays embracing the sunflowers,
Loving them in a way no one ever cares to do.
5. Summer and You
by Ruby Archer
Summer is dead—and yet, my own,
It lives in you.
You are my flowers, and sunny hours,
And skies all blue.
Rose-laden breeze among the trees,
Your whispered words.
You are my brooks, and forest nooks,
And singing birds.
6. The Poet in June
by M. P. A. Crozier
Tis bliss to have the poet’s heart
That loves the quietude of things,
Where nature smiles her bidden rocks,
And brings out sweet and cooling springs.
The June-green grass beneath my feet,
The dandelion’s disk of gold,
The corn’s slim spire just pushing out
From clean brown beds of kindly mold.
Bid welcome as I pass along
The harvest way across the lea;
While songs of birds are in my soul.
And eyes of flowers make love to me.
Down in the meadow’s gliding stream
The children splash their snowy feet,
And all their laughter comes to me
Across the fields of growing wheat.
7. Thy Silent Thoughts
by Robert Lindley
So beautiful are thy silent thoughts
I would watch thine eyes all day.
There is wonder in them, as the sun’s first flash
Through tumult of ocean spray;
In them the shining calm of upland pools
Mirrors the glory round,
And their shadows are the shadows of sweet flowers
Upon the summer ground.
So beautiful are thy silent thoughts
I would watch thine eyes all day;
More beauteous in their silence than the stars,
Than the silent stars, are they.
Summer Poems about Morning
Summer mornings are a time of quiet beauty when the world is bathed in soft light and the day is full of promise. Poets have captured this magic in summer morning poems, inviting readers to savor the peace and tranquility of mornings.
1. A Summer Day
by George Cooper
This is the way the morning dawns:
Rosy tints on flowers and trees,
Winds that wake the birds and bees,
Dewdrops on the fields and lawns—
This is the way the morning dawns.
This is the way the sun comes up:
Gold on brook and glossy leaves,
Mist that melts above the sheaves,
Vine, and rose, and buttercup—
This is the way the sun comes up.
This is the way the river flows:
Here a whirl, and there a dance;
Slowly now, then, like a lance,
Swiftly to the sea it goes—
This is the way the river flows.
This is the way the rain comes down:
Tinkle, tinkle, drop by drop,
Over roof and chimney top;
Boughs that bend, and skies that frown—
This is the way the rain comes down.
This is the way the birdie sings:
“Baby birdies in the nest,
You I surely love the best;
Over you I fold my wings”—
This is the way the birdie sings.
This is the way the daylight dies:
Cows are lowing in the lane,
Fireflies wink on hill and plain;
Yellow, red, and purple skies—
This is the way the daylight dies.
2. Summer Wind
by William Cullen Bryant
It is a sultry day; the sun has drank
The dew that lay upon the morning grass;
There is no rustling in the lofty elm
That canopies my dwelling, and its shade
Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint
And interrupted murmur of the bee,
Settling on the sick flowers, and then again
Instantly on the wing. The plants around
Feel the too potent fervours: the tall maize
Rolls up its long green leaves; the clover droops
Its tender foliage, and declines its blooms.
But far in the fierce sunshine tower the hills,
With all their growth of woods, silent and stern,
As if the scorching heat and dazzling light
Were but an element they loved. Bright clouds,
Motionless pillars of the brazen heaven,—
Their bases on the mountains—their white tops
Shining in the far ether—fire the air
With a reflected radiance, and make turn
The gazer’s eye away. For me, I lie
Languidly in the shade, where the thick turf,
Yet virgin from the kisses of the sun,
Retains some freshness, and I woo the wind
That still delays its coming. Why so slow,
Gentle and voluble spirit of the air?
Oh, come and breathe upon the fainting earth
Coolness and life. Is it that in his caves
He hears me? See, on yonder woody ridge,
The pine is bending his proud top, and now
Among the nearer groves, chestnut and oak
Are tossing their green boughs about. He comes!
Lo, where the grassy meadow runs in waves!
The deep distressful silence of the scene
Breaks up with mingling of unnumbered sounds
And universal motion. He is come,
Shaking a shower of blossoms from the shrubs,
And bearing on their fragrance; and he brings
Music of birds, and rustling of young boughs,
And sound of swaying branches, and the voice
Of distant waterfalls. All the green herbs
Are stirring in his breath; a thousand flowers,
By the road-side and the borders of the brook,
Nod gaily to each other; glossy leaves
Are twinkling in the sun, as if the dew
Were on them yet, and silver waters break
Into small waves and sparkle as he comes.
3. A Summer Morning
by Arthur Franklin Fuller
First along the eastern sky
A golden glow is seen —
Clouds and shadows speed away,
Grass and trees show green;
Flowers and other vegetation,
Yester-eve forlorn,
Stand erect — a glad oration
To the dew of morn.
Roosters make exultant call —
Heralds of the day —
Birds full throated glad with all
Sing as song birds may;
Nature gives revivification —
Heaviness is gone —
Earth is glad with expectation,
With the approach of dawn.
Beautiful is this mundane sphere —
Best at early morn —
Lovelier in her virgin state,
Than aught which man can form;
Night-time hints of dissolution —
Day and hope are done —
Life and noble aspiration
Dawn with Morning’s sun.
4. Summer Morning
by Rose Fyleman
THE air around was trembling-bright
And full of dancing specks of light,
While butterflies were dancing too
Between the shining green and blue.
I might not watch, I might not stay,
I ran along the meadow way.
The straggling brambles caught my feet,
The clover field was, oh! so sweet;
I heard a singing in the sky,
And busy things went buzzing by;
And how it came I cannot tell,
But all the hedges sang as well.
Along the clover-field I ran
To where the little wood began,
And there I understood at last
Why I had come so far, so fast
On every leaf of every tree
A fairy sat and smiled at me!
5. A Summer Morning
by Rachel Field
I saw dawn creep across the sky,
And all the gulls go flying by.
I saw the sea put on its dress
Of blue mid-summer loveliness,
And heard the trees begin to stir
Green arms of pine and juniper.
I heard the wind call out and say:
“Get up, my dear, it is today.”
6. Summer Morning
by John Clare
The cocks have now the morn foretold,
The sun again begins to peep,
The shepherd, whistling to his fold,
Unpens and frees the captive sheep.
O’er pathless plains at early hours
The sleepy rustic sloomy goes;
The dews, brushed off from grass and flowers,
Bemoistening sop his hardened shoes
While every leaf that forms a shade,
And every floweret’s silken top,
And every shivering bent and blade,
Stoops, bowing with a diamond drop.
But soon shall fly those diamond drops,
The red round sun advances higher,
And, stretching o’er the mountain tops,
Is gilding sweet the village-spire.
‘Tis sweet to meet the morning breeze,
Or list the gurgling of the brook;
Or, stretched beneath the shade of trees,
Peruse and pause on Nature’s book,
When Nature every sweet prepares
To entertain our wished delay,–
The images which morning wears,
The wakening charms of early day!
Now let me tread the meadow paths
While glittering dew the ground illumes,
As, sprinkled o’er the withering swaths,
Their moisture shrinks in sweet perfumes;
And hear the beetle sound his horn;
And hear the skylark whistling nigh,
Sprung from his bed of tufted corn,
A haling minstrel from the sky.
7. Morning Side Heights, July
by William Matthews
Haze. Three student violists boarding
a bus. A clatter of jackhammers.
Granular light. A film of sweat for primer
and the heat for a coat of paint.
A man and a woman on a bench:
she tells him he must be psychic,
for how else could he sense, even before she knew,
that she’d need to call it off? A bicyclist
fumes by with a coach’s whistle clamped
hard between his teeth, shrilling like a teakettle
on the boil. I never meant, she says.
But I thought, he replies. Two cabs almost
collide; someone yells fuck in Farsi.
I’m sorry, she says. The comforts
of loneliness fall in like a bad platoon.
The sky blurs—there’s a storm coming
up or down. A lank cat slinks liquidly
around a corner. How familiar
it feels to feel strange, hollower
than a bassoon. A rill of chill air
in the leaves. A car alarm. Hail.
8. Summer Morning
by Mary Oliver
Heart,
I implore you,
it’s time to come back
from the dark,
it’s morning,
the hills are pink
and the roses
whatever they felt
in the valley of night
are opening now
their soft dresses,
their leaves
are shining.
Why are you laggard?
Sure you have seen this
a thousand times,
which isn’t half enough.
Let the world
have its way with you,
luminous as it is
with mystery
and pain–
graced as it is
with the ordinary.
Summer Poems about Nights
In this category, we have compiled a collection of poems about summer nights about nights that will transport you to a world of dreams and enchantment.
1. A Summer’s Night
by Paul Laurence Dunbar
The night is dewy as a maiden’s mouth,
The skies are bright as are a maiden’s eyes,
Soft as a maiden’s breath the wind that flies
Up from the perfumed bosom of the South.
Like sentinels, the pines stand in the park;
And hither hastening, like rakes that roam,
With lamps to light their wayward footsteps home,
The fireflies come stagg’ring down the dark.
2. Summer Wind
by Holland
Summer nights are my favorite…
To be able to sit on a hammock
Or in a rocking chair
Feet bare, shorts barely peering through
The edges of my long tank top
And not have a worry in my mind
On a night like that
Some would have a beer
or wine by their side
But I am a southern girl
So sweet tea will do just fine
As I peer through a screened in porch
I see the sky on fire
Scorching red and orange and pink
As if to emphasize the condition
of the world around me
As I sit there
in the silence of the evening
I feel a slight breeze
Like a gentle smile
Or comforting arms around me
Reminding me there can be
Simplicity
Beauty
Peace
No matter how young I was
Or how old I will be
I will never forget the feeling attached
To the profound subtlety
Of a summer wind
3. Summer Night
by Colette Alexia
The moon was big
And our love was bigger
I said anywhere you go
I would go with ya
Because I love the moon
But the view is better sitting next to you
4. Summer Nights
by Cné
And lo, with evening shadows comes the twinkle of the stars.
Yonder is the rising moon and further west is Mars.
How wondrous is The Milky Way, away from city lights.
The silence seems to deafen me on sultry rural nights.
Oh, I could sit upon the porch and listen here for hours.
Indeed, the night reflects the subtle magic of nature’s powers.
Play on, oh evening symphony and with this starry scene,
Delight my senses off to slumber with a summer dream.
5. Golden
by Amanda
Night folds over another day
And fireflies burst into glow
Amongst soft summer trees
They shine like living stars
And my eyes turn to the universe
As warm winds sigh across my hair
I breathe in the warm perfume
Of Earths rich and golden season
6. A Summer Night
by Elizabeth Stoddard
I feel the breath of the summer night,
Aromatic fire:
The trees, the vines, the flowers are astir
With tender desire.
The white moths flutter about the lamp,
Enamoured with light;
And a thousand creatures softly sing
A song to the night!
But I am alone, and how can I sing
Praises to thee?
Come, Night! unveil the beautiful soul
That waiteth for me.
7. Summer Expectations
by Helena Alexis
I can’t wait for the long summer nights
that are soon approaching as the days
become hotter and the nights become cooler
I can’t wait to kiss random girls and boys
at concerts and parties with bitter taste of alcohol lingering still on my lips
I can’t wait to feel the sun kiss my skin each day as i go out wearing short shorts and a crop top
I can’t wait for the long night drives to nowhere with friends,
all the road trips we’ll take to the beach, all the new people I’ll meet I can’t wait for laying down beneath the stars while listening to r&b and smoking a blunt
I can’t wait to travel to different countries, experiencing the culture and life
I can’t wait to find somebody to love
Final Thoughts
Summer is a time of warmth, joy, and inspiration, and there’s no better way to celebrate it than with poetry.
We hope that this collection of summer poems has warmed up your mood and spirit and transported you to a world of beauty and wonder.
Whether you prefer funny, inspirational, or romantic poems or short or long ones, there’s something here for everyone.
We encourage you to share your favorite poems for summer in the comments section below and keep the conversation going.
Summer is a time for connection and community, and poetry is a powerful way to bring people together.
Happy reading!
