10 September Poems
Celebrate September’s gentle shift from summer warmth to autumn’s beauty with these inspiring poems.
Updated August 25, 2025, by Catherine Pulsifer
September is a month that blends the best of two seasons. The days still hold the warmth of summer, yet the evenings bring a refreshing coolness that whispers of fall. Leaves begin to turn, offering a colorful display that reminds us of the beauty found in change. School begins, vacations end, and routines settle back into place, yet September encourages us to pause and notice the gifts of the moment. Rather than longing for summer past or dreading the coming winter, these poems invite you to embrace the blessings this month brings.
Splendid Change
September brings a splendid change to the Earth,
As nature's palette bursts with vibrant birth.
Leaves on trees transform, painting hues anew,
A kaleidoscope of red, orange, and golden view.
Excitement dances in the crisp autumn air,
As landscapes transform with nature's loving care.
In every rustle and whispering breeze,
September enchants, fills our hearts with ease.
Autumn PoemsSeptember Brings A Harvest
In golden fields, the season's breath is ripe,
Where nature's labor culminates precise.
September brings a harvest with bounty blest,
A symphony of abundance, manifest.
The fruits cascading from earth's generous womb,
Reveal sustained labor amid toil and gloom.
For every furrow turned and seed sown deep,
September's joyous bounty, we shall reap.
Nature PoemsThe Second Sunday In September
On Grandparents Day, the second Sunday in September, we stand,
To honor those who shaped us with their care,
Their love’s embrace, a timeless promise grand,
In whispers of wisdom, they taught us to dare.
For on this day, our gratitude resounds,
To grandparents who’ve filled our lives profound.
With hearts aglow, we offer thanks today,
To the presence that forever lights our way.
Grandparents PoemsSeptember's Change
September arrives with echoes of change,
A new chapter in life's intricate range.
Friends reunite, laughter fills the air,
As we embark on an academic affair.
Minds awoken from a summer's slumber,
Ready for the lessons that lie in number.
With serious intent, we march ahead,
Embracing knowledge on this journey we tread.
Poems About ChangeSummer Begins To Fade
As summer's haze begins to fade away,
September emerges in subtle grace.
Milder temperatures, a tranquil sway,
Unveiling autumn's splendor in each space.
Cool evenings whisper secrets through the night,
With crispness tingling gently in the air.
In transition, seasons change with might,
Serious tones remind us life is fair.
Summer PoemsAugust Bows Its Head
As August bows its head and fades away,
September brings resounding grace.
The bruised sky dons a cloak of somber gray,
While trees set ablaze their colorful embrace.
Autumn's palette paints the world in gold,
Serene whispers dance on the cooling air.
With each falling leaf, secrets yet unfold,
In solemn tones, nature's beauty we ensnare.
August PoemsFall Migration
In golden hues, September arrives,
When somber skies embrace whispered cries.
A tapestry woven with wings set a flight,
As birds embark on their ancient rite.
They depart from lands they called their home,
Braving perils vast, wherever they roam.
With purpose and grace, through the boundless sky,
Witness the spectacle as migrants bid goodbye.
September
September with her brushes dipped in dazzling red and gold
Now comes to paint the valleys and the hills;
And we forget completely that the year is getting old
As we gaze upon the color that she spills.
For all that we remember
Are the glories of September,
The bloom upon the peaches and the gold upon the grain,
The apples red with blushes
From September's crimson brushes,
The glory of the hill tops and the splendor of the plain.
September - magic artist - comes again to paint the trees,
Comes again to crown with beauty Mother Earth;
And she'll touch with gold or crimson every humble plant she sees.
Without questioning its merit or its worth.
And the eye that looks to see
On the frailest little tree
Will behold a touch of glory where September it caressed.
And the poorest little bloom
That is soon to meet its doom
Will be nodding in the sunshine with the proudest richly dressed.
And September makes me think as I watch her splashing paints
Over every living thing underneath the skies today,
That the poorest of us here, when he goes to join the saints,
Will receive a touch of glory in the very self same way;
That the humblest of the lot
In the end won't be forgot,
As September crowns with beauty all the works of Mother Earth,
So the gentle God above,
In His mercy and His love,
In the frailest of his creatures will find something that's of worth.
September
The goldenrod is yellow.
The corn is turning brown,
The trees in apple orchards
With fruit are bending down.
The gentian's bluest fringes
Are curling in the sun,
In dusty pods the milkweed
Its hidden silk has spun.
The sedges flaunt their harvest,
In every meadow nook,
And asters by the brook-side
Make asters in the brook.
From dewy lanes at morning
The grapes' sweet odors rise.
At noon the roads all flutter
With yellow butterflies.
By all these lovely tokens,
September days are here,
With summer's best of weather,
And autumn's best of cheer.
Sweet Is September
Sweet is the voice that calls
From babbling waterfalls
In meadows where the downy seeds are flying;
And soft the breezes blow,
And eddying come and go
In faded gardens where the rose is dying.
Among the stubbled corn
The blithe quail pipes at morn,
The merry partridge drums in hidden places,
And glittering insects gleam
Above the reedy stream,
Where busy spiders spin their filmy laces.
At eve cool shadows fall
Across the garden wall
And on the clustered grapes to purple turning,
And pearly vapors lie
Along the eastern sky,
Where the broad harvest moon is redly burning.
Ah, soon on field and hill
The wind shall whistle chill,
And patriarch swallows call their flocks together,
To fly from frost and snow,
And seek for lands where blow
The fairer blossoms of a balmier weather.
The cricket chirps all day,
"O fairest summer, stay!"
The squirrel eyes askance the chestnuts browning;
The wild fowl fly afar
Above the foamy bar,
And hasten southward ere the skies are frowning.
Now comes a fragrant breeze
Through the dark cedar-trees,
And round about my temples fondly lingers,
In gentle playfulness,
Like to the soft caress
Bestowed in happier days by loving fingers.
Yet, though a sense of grief
Comes with the falling leaf,
And memory makes the summer doubly pleasant,
In all my autumn dreams
A future summer gleams,
Passing the fairest glories of the present!
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Conclusion
As September passes, we are reminded that each season carries its own beauty and lessons. The colors of fall, the crispness of the air, and the return of routine all weave together to create a month of reflection and gratitude. May these poems leave you inspired to slow down, to notice the small blessings around you, and to carry the peace of September in your heart throughout the year.
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