14 Summer Poems

Let these short summer poems inspire you to enjoy this season of warmth and sunshine! Summer is often one of the most favorite seasons, especially after a long winter and a wet spring, the sunshine of summer makes people get out and enjoy the outdoors. And we know as summer ends, the fall approaches and the cycle starts all over again.

Short Poems   /   Poems About The Seasons    /   Summer Poems


  1. Bed In Summer
    Poet: Robert Louis Stevenson


    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?



  2. Song Of Summer
    Poet: Mary Mapes Dodge


    Up in the tree top, down in the ground,
    High in the blue sky, far, all around, -
    Near by and everywhere creatures are living,
    God in his bounty something is giving.

    Up in the tree top, down in the ground,
    High in the blue sky, far, all around, -
    Near by and everywhere creatures are striving,
    Labor is surely the price of their thriving.

    Up in the tree top, down in the ground,
    High in the blue sky, far, all around, -
    Near by and everywhere, singing and humming,
    Busily, joyfully. Summer is coming!



  3. Summer And Winter
    Poet Unknown


    If no kindly thought or word
    We can give, some soul to bless,
    If our hands, from hour to hour,
    Do no deeds of gentleness;
    If to lone and weary ones
    We no comfort will impart —
    Tho' 'tis summer in the sky.
    Yet 'tis winter in the heart!

    If we strive to lift the gloom
    From a dark and burdened life;
    If we seek to lull the storm
    Of our fallen brother's strife;
    If we bid all hate and scorn
    From the spirit to depart —
    Tho' 'tis winter in the sky,
    Yet 'tis summer in the heart!



  4. A Summer Day
    Poet: E. K. Linton


    The fragrant, quivering air is hot
    Upon my lips and eyes,
    And all sad dreamings are forgot
    And all sad melodies.

    The great, sweet day is a full sea
    Of golden light and flowers,
    And as waves passing silently
    The flood and ebb of hours.

    E'en as the quiet rivulets
    Melt in the murmuring sea,
    The odours of frail violets
    Feed the air ceaselessly.

    Ah, that my soul were as the scent
    These flowers fling away,
    To fade and float insentient
    Into this perfect day.



  5. A Summer Picture
    Poet: Howard Carleton Tripp


    The eastern bars that held the stars
    Began to break away,
    And night's despair commenced to wear
    The golden robe of day.
    O'er field and town there glisten down
    The beams of paradise;
    And misty clouds like snowy shrouds
    Adorn the sunny skies.
    In beauty's robe the grand old globe
    Was decked with gold and green,
    For summer's hand had dressed the land
    As God's anointed queen.

    In streams of mist the sun-god kissed
    The meadows stretching wide;
    And over all the shadows fall
    As laces veil the bride.
    The sighing breeze bowed down the trees
    And lightly kissed the flowers;
    And children gay were out to stray
    In cool and shady bowers.
    The god of joy without alloy
    Seemed reigning everywhere,
    And not a pain was there to stain
    A single heart with care.



  6. Summer
    Poet: M. E. B.


    O Father, condescend to hear
    And to accept my humble praise.
    For all these beauties which appear
    Spread o'er the earth, in summer days.

    All nature looks so bright and fair
    All in the richest colours dress'd
    And soft and balmy is the air.
    With perfume laden, from the west.

    The sky of lovely, peaceful blue.
    Where not a cloud is to be seen.
    How sweet a contrast with the hue
    Of yon tall trees' delightful green.

    But often thick, white, fleecy clouds
    Mantling around the blue will be.
    And how I love to watch those clouds.
    That seem to rise up from the sea.

    Ah, yes, to stand and gaze upon
    Those rolling forms of snowy white,
    t makes the inmost spirit long
    To take its upward, heavenly flight.

    The sun shines bright to warm the earth,
    The flowers spring up and bloom around;
    All good things owe to Thee their birth,
    Great God, and to Thy praise resound.

    And what a pleasing sound is heard
    From yon small lark now on the wing;
    'Twas Thou, kind Father, made the bird,
    And taught it how to sweetly sing.

    How good to make the meadows green.
    Where little children love to play.
    How many happy groups are seen
    Plucking the yellow flowers so gay.

    I see the pleasant hill and vale.
    From this bright spot on which I stand,
    I feel the very gentle gale,
    Which blows refreshing o'er the land.

    There is a secret joy that beams
    Within, while viewing scenes like this —
    So bright and fair, on earth — that seems
    A type of purer, heavenly bliss.

    O, gracious Father, may my heart
    Be filled with love and grateful praise,
    While I survey this beauteous part
    Of Thy great work, in six short days.

    O pour on me Thy heavenly grace,
    Make me to understand Thy ways,
    Help me to truly seek Thy face,
    And in my life show forth Thy praise.



  7. No Need To Watch
    Poet: Margaret Veley


    Long looked for was the summer; anxious eyes
    Noted the budding bough, the crocus flame
    That told its coming. Now 'neath autumn skies
    The leaves fall slowly, slowly as they came.

    There is no need to watch while winter weaves
    Fair buds to crown another golden prime,
    For something heavier than the autumn leaves
    Has hidden eyes that looked for summer time.

    The trees shall wake from their forgetful sleep
    Unto new blossom and a tender green,
    The countless trees! — but never one will keep
    A little leaf or flower that she has seen.



  8. After Drought
    Poet: Lucy P. Scott


    The summer days are slipping by.
    The warm and sunny days,
    When robins call, and we can hear
    The harsh cry of the jays.

    This year we've had a summer when
    The clouds have stayed away,
    When scorching, burning sunshine bright
    Has lingered day by day.

    The earth was hard and thirsty, it's
    Been dry so very long.
    The blazing sun shone down on us
    Still, fiery, and strong.

    The dust lay over everything.
    The roadsides powdered grey,
    We watched for clouds to bring us rain
    For weeks, day after day.

    Last night the rain came pouring down,
    It splashed and splashed all night.
    And now out in the garden beds
    The flowers are such a sight!

    The petals of the roses are
    All strewed upon the ground,
    The broken branches and dead leaves
    Are scattered all around.

    The gardener will be very glad,
    He wanted showers so!
    We have to have both rain and sun
    To make the garden grow.



  9. Indian Summer
    Poet: Ellwood Haines Stokes


    Softly, sweet Indian Summer,
    Thy footprints press the sod;
    And in the solemn stillness
    I hear the voice of God,
    As when my heart is tendered
    By love's subduing rod.

    The dim and dreamy sunlight
    Is bathing all the land;
    And in the frost-touched forests
    The patient pine-trees stand.
    While billows flowing softly
    Embrace the sleeping strand.

    High up along the hill-sides.
    Where granite rocks are bare,
    And down among the valleys
    Where lonely fields are fair.
    And through the leafless branches.
    Weird silence fills the air.

    O days of lingering beauty,
    Too delicate to last,
    Like footprints on the lilies.
    The morning dews have cast.
    Or love's delicious echoes
    Through shadows of the past.

    O, ever-softening spirit
    Into my spirit shine;
    And in the holy stillness
    May the still heart be mine,
    And life's sweet Indian Summer
    Be peaceful and divine.



  10. Summer in the Country
    Poet: Lucy Larcom


    Ho! for the hills in summer!
    Ho! for the rocky shade,
    Where the ground-pine trails under the fern leaves
    Deep in the mossy glade.

    Up in the dewy sunrise;
    Waked by the robin's trill;
    Up and away, a-berrying,
    To the pastures on the hill!

    Swinging on a birch tree
    To a sleepy tune,
    Hummed by all the breezes
    In the month of June!

    Little leaves a-flutter
    Sound like dancing drops
    Of a brook on pebbles,
    Song that never stops.



  11. A Summer Morning Prayer
    Poet: Lucy Larcom


    Like this clear sunshine, let Thy love
    Shine down on me to-day!
    Shelter my soul, Thou brooding Dove,
    Like these warm skies, I pray.

    There is no brightness on the earth,
    No glory in the sky,
    No peace in rest, no joy in mirth,
    Except when Thou art nigh.

    Then, Lord, all day be near my soul,
    And look me through and through,
    Till every wish owns Thy control,
    And every thought is true.

    Thou art in all that Thou hast made,
    Oh, let me see Thee there;
    Dear Lord, be Thou my Sun, my Shade,
    My Saviour, everywhere!



  12. Summer Twilight
    Poet: Mrs. M. J. E. Crawford


    Oh, how I love to steal away
    And spend an hour in silent musing
    Just when the rosy smile of day
    In twilight shades its light is losing!
    For then a pure and holy spell
    On every earthly scene seems dwelling,
    And from each woody hill and dell
    Soft, faint-toned melodies are swelling.

    They are not like the gay, glad songs
    Through field and forest daily ringing,
    But pensively they float along,
    Like wearied ones sweet vespers singing.
    And stars come stealing gently forth,
    In dewy brightness calmly beaming,
    And dew-drops thicken o'er the earth
    Like pearls among the dark leaves gleaming.

    At such an hour my spirit turns
    Away from scenes of mirth and pleasure,
    For in its secret depths it yearns
    For purer joys and richer treasure.
    The twilight hour! the silent prayer
    Of thousands at this hour ascending,
    Like incense on the dewy air,
    With angel-songs is sweetly blending.
    The twilight hour! how mild and calm
    It woos the soul to meek devotion,
    And sheds around a soothing balm
    Which stills each day-born, wild emotion!



  13. Song Of Summer-Time
    Poet: J. H. Ashabranner


    The fields are bright with the golden grain,
    That waves in the subtile breeze;
    The partridge calls, in his loud refrain,
    To his mate from the apple-trees.

    Sweet and low is the hum of bees,
    And the hum of the reapers' tune,
    As, one by one, they bind the sheaves
    Beneath the skies of June.

    Deep in the shade of the beechen grove,
    Where the sun and the shadows play;
    The oriole swings with his mated love,
    And blends his tuneful lay.

    Silent and grand, with a lurid glow,
    Behind the hills of the west,
    The chariot of Sol is sinking low,
    And bids the harvester rest.



  14. Summer Evening
    Poet: William Cullen Bryant


    The summer day has closed; the sun is set:
    Well have they done their office, those bright hours,
    The latest of whose train goes softly out
    In the red west. The green blade of the ground
    Has risen, and herds have cropped it; the young twig
    Has spread its plaited tissues to the sun;
    Flowers of the garden and the waste have blown
    And withered; seeds have fallen upon the soil
    From bursting cells, and, in their graves, await
    Their resurrection. Insects from the pools
    Have filled the air a while with humming wings,
    That now are stilled forever; painted moths
    Have wandered the blue sky, and died again;
    The mother-bird hath broken for her brood
    Their prison shell, or shoved them from their nest,
    Plumed for their earliest flight. In bright alcoves,
    In woodland cottages with barky walls,
    In noisome cells of the tumultuous town,
    Mothers have clasped with joy the newborn babe;
    Graves by the lonely forest, by the shore
    Of rivers and of ocean, by the ways
    Of the thronged city, have been hollowed out,
    And filled, and closed. This day hath parted friends
    That ne'er before were parted; it hath knit
    New friendships; it hath seen the maiden plight
    Her faith, and trust her peace to him who long
    Hath wooed; and it hath heard, from lips which late
    Were eloquent of love, the first harsh word,
    That told the wedded one her peace was flown.
    Farewell to the sweet sunshine! One glad day
    Is added now to childhood's merry days,
    And one calm day to those of quiet age;
    Still the fleet hours run on; and, as I lean,
    Amid the thickening- darkness, lamps are lit
    By those who watch the dead and those who twine
    Flowers for the bride. The mother from the eyes
    Of her sick infant shades the painful light,
    And sadly listens to his quick-drawn breath.


More Poems About The Seasons to Inspire


Related Short Poems & Quotes You May Also Like:

sunshine poems   Sunshine Poems

month poems   Month Poems

 winter poems   Winter Poems

spring poems   Spring Poems

autumn poems   Autumn Poems

october poems  October Poems

garden poems  Garden Poems

poems about leaves   Poems About Leaves

 sunshine quotes   Sunshine Quotes


Short Poems    |     Poems     |     Quotes     |     About Us    |     Contact Us    |    

privacy policy