Summer smells like morning air and sunscreen. Summer looks like bright days and even brighter nights. Summer feels like freedom. Summer sounds like beach waves and campfire crackles. Summer tastes like ice cream and fresh fruit.
April not only delivers the rain showers that bring May flowers, but it can also come with soft, subtle pangs of warm weather. The month can cause anyone to dream of summer, especially when the pastel dresses have been hung back in closets and all the eggs have been found.
Poems from your favorite poets can also help to make your dreams collide with intense imagination, making summer feel more vibrant and happy. It is a good thing that poets find inspiration from one of the most beloved seasons across the world.
Enjoy a list of poetry from famous poets that can bring summer to you quicker than calendar days or make you travel back in time of past June memories, July beach trips, and sunny August mornings. From Carl Sandburg, George Eliot, Robert Frost, and more, let this list begin!
Beach Sand by Raymond A. Foss
Maybe it is the memories
the change of pace that brings us there
the sense of vacation
maybe the smell of the place
the sights of the gulls, the dunes, the grasses
but oh it is the feel of it,
the crunch and slide of it
the feeling of beach sand
so different from dirt, soil, loam
no, not earthy, moist, rich,
but oh so granular and gritty
even when wet,
moveable paper spreading under toes
sliding beneath the soles
smoothing my skin
clearing my mind
unburdening me of the rest
drawing me to the tactile, the feel
of beach sand
Blue-Butterfly Day by Robert Frost
It is blue-butterfly day here in spring,
And with these sky-flakes down in flurry on flurry
There is more unmixed color on the wing
Than flowers will show for days unless they hurry.
But these are flowers that fly and all but sing:
And now from having ridden out desire
They lie closed over in the wind and cling
Where wheels have freshly sliced the April mire.
Flood-Tide of Flowers by Henry Van Dyke
The laggard winter ebbed so slow
With freezing rain and melting snow,
It seemed as if the earth would stay
Forever where the tide was low,
In sodden green and watery gray.
But now from depths beyond our sight,
The tide is turning in the night,
And floods of color long concealed
Come silent rising toward the light,
Through garden bare and empty field.
And first, along the sheltered nooks,
The crocus runs in little brooks
Of joyance, till by light made bold
They show the gladness of their looks
In shining pools of white and gold.
The tiny scilla, sapphire blue,
Is gently seeping in, to strew
The earth with heaven; and sudden rills
Of sunlit yellow, sweeping through,
Spread into lakes of daffodils.
The hyacinths, with fragrant heads,
Have overflowed their sandy beds,
And fill the earth with faint perfume,
The breath that Spring around her sheds.
And now the tulips break in bloom!
A sea, a rainbow-tinted sea,
A splendor and a mystery,
Floods o’er the fields of faded gray:
The roads are full of folks in glee,
For lo, — to-day is Easter Day!
Nature Walk by Raymond A. Foss
Out back, behind the yard
in the brush and scrub at the edge
a world unfolds for those willing
to stop and look, crunch and tread
where squirrel and ant, snake and fox
hunt and work, amongst the deadfall
Wonder of nature in the back, beyond
the cut lawn and past the leaf litter
a bend of a branch held by ivy
a curl of birch bark
a spider’s leg showing below the
lip of a fungus on an old trunk
patterns in the ground, beneath the
newness of spring in the woods
before the full greening of the
new shoots and leaves
in between time in early April
in New Hampshire
Summer Stars by Carl Sandburg
BEND low again, night of summer stars.
So near you are, sky of summer stars,
So near, a long arm man can pick off stars,
Pick off what he wants in the sky bowl,
So near you are, summer stars,
So near, strumming, strumming,
So lazy and hum-strumming.
Roses by George Eliot
You love the roses – so do I. I wish
The sky would rain down roses, as they rain
From off the shaken bush. Why will it not?
Then all the valley would be pink and white
And soft to tread on. They would fall as light
As feathers, smelling sweet; and it would be
Like sleeping and like waking, all at once!
Pear Tree by Hilda Doolittle
lifted from the earth,
higher than my arms reach,
you have mounted.
higher than my arms reach
you front us with great mass;
no flower ever opened
so staunch a white leaf,
no flower ever parted silver
from such rare silver;
O white pear,
thick on the branch,
bring summer and ripe fruits
in their purple hearts.