September Poems

Feel the cool nights and the warm days as you read these poems about September. A time of year that can be one of the most beautiful seasons, with the brilliance in the color of the trees, with its warm days and cooler evenings.

When Sept. arrives we can see the summer fading away, memories of the hot days of summer fill our minds. We see the days starting to get shorter, the sun setting a few minutes earlier. And, sometimes not so pleasant memories of what is coming winter! September signals back to school for many children and for many vacations over. But rather than look back or look ahead, enjoy the days that September brings.

Short Poems   /   Poems About The Seasons    /   September Poems - related Fall Quotes

  1. September
    Poet: Edgar A. Guest

    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.

  2. September
    Poet: Helen Hunt Jackson

    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.

  3. Sweet Is September
    Poet: George Arnold

    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!

More Poems About The Seasons to Inspire & Motivate

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