14 Famous Poems About The Seasons
Find inspiration in these famous poems celebrating the beauty of each season. These timeless, classic verses capture the ever-changing wonders of the seasons. The poems, while written years ago,
continue to resonate with us even after many years.
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Famous Poems About The Seasons
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Autumn Time
Poet: Douglas Malloch
The time is coming when the leaves
Shall put away their garb of green
And don the strange, fantastic weaves
That color all the autumn scene.
-
Make Me Mellow
Poet: Douglas Malloch
Some would have Spring within the heart,
But I, some mellow month in mine
Like old October: flowers depart,
And even youth must resign -
But always, brothers, there are some
To whom no Winters ever come:
Always October skies are theirs,
Even amid life's wintry cares.
-
Crumbs
Poet: Patience Strong
When the grass is stiff with frost, and Winter really comes -
don't forget the birds -
for they can do with all the crumbs -
You'll see them waiting patiently, lined up along the fence -
While you enjoy your breakfast they are waiting in suspense ....
-
Later On
Poet: Wilhelmina Stitch
When it's winter, I shall look
At a memory picture book.
I shall look and I shall see
Candles on a chestnut tree,
Coral pink and waxy white -
Won't they give a lovely light?
-
Autumn Woods
Poet: Nixon Waterman
When skies are bright and fields are brown
And autumn leaves come drifting down
A girl or boy can find true joy
In an ev'ry woodland way.
-
Autumn In The Garden
Poet: Henry VanDyke
When the frosty kiss of Autumn in the dark
Makes its mark
On the flowers, and the misty morning grieves
Over fallen leaves;
Then my olden garden, where the golden soil
Through the toil
Of a hundred years is mellow, rich, and deep,
Whispers in its sleep.
-
Stern Winter
Poet: Caleb Davis Bradlee
Stern winter bids us all good cheer,
With snowy robes so light,
A priest it stands before us here,
A priest all pure and bright.
-
A Summer Morning
Poet: 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.
-
Spring, Summer, Autumn Poems
Poet: Caleb Davis Bradlee
The Spring has come, the blessed Spring,
With secrets rich and deep;
Glad tidings does it ever bring,
Grand truths for all to keep.
-
Children Of The Spring
Poet: Douglas Malloch
What means the Spring to you? -
The tree, the bloom, the grass;
Wide fields to wander through;
A primrose path to pass;
Bright sun, and skies of blue
-
Spring Fever
Poet: Douglas Malloch
Not exactly lazy -
Yet I want to sit
In the momin' hazy
An' jest dream a bit.
Haven't got ambition
Fer a single thing -
Regaler condition
Ev'ry bloomin' Spring.
Want to sleep at noontime
(Ought to work instead),
But along at moontime
Hate to go to bed.
Find myself a-stealin'
Fer a sunny spot -
Jest that Springy feelin',
That is what I've got.
Like to set a-wishin'
Fer a pipe an' book.
Like to go a-fishin'
In a meadow-brook
With some fish deceiver,
Underneath a tree -
Jest the old Spring fever.
That's what's ailing me!
-
May
Poet: Eloise A. Skimings
How fragrant the balm laden air!
All nature seems glad and gay;
The birds warble their notes of praise.
This glorious month of May.
The trees, flowar-crowned, rejoice
Since winter has lost his sway;
Emblem of the resurrection,
This flowery month of May.
Then let us the Almighty praise,
Who will wash our sins away,
And clothe us with garbs of purity
Like the trees this month of May,
-
Winter
Poet: Daniel C. Colesworthy
How cold it is, and dreary!
The snow is on the ground;
The chilly north wind bloweth
With melancholy sound.
The bright and dashing river,
The pleasant, leaping rill,
Are touched by Winter's finger,
And now are smooth and still.
The flowers that in the summer
Were beautiful and bright,
And forest-trees, have perished,
With all that gave delight.
Where'er we look around us,
We see but stern decay:
On plain, or in the valley,
The glory's passed away.
-
Here Again
Poet: William Morris
Slayer of the winter, art thou here again?
Oh welcome, thou that bring'st the summer nigh!
The bitter wind makes not thy victory vain,
Nor will we mock thee for thy faint blue sky.
Welcome, O March ! whose kindly days and dry
Make April ready for the throstle's song,
Thou first redresser of the winter's wrong!
Yea, welcome March! and though I die ere June,
Yet for the hope of life I give thee praise,
Striving to swell the burden of the tune
That even now I hear thy brown birds raise,
Who sing, "O joy! a new year has begun:
What happiness to look upon the sun!"
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