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As the leaves begin to change and the air cools, September marks the start of autumn.
It’s a time of transition and reflection, and what’s a happier way to celebrate this season than with poetry?
These September poems capture the essence of autumn, from the beauty of the changing leaves to the crispness of the air.
Whether you’re looking for funny and lighthearted poems or something more inspirational, there’s something for everyone.
From short and compact to long and thoughtful, these poems on September explore the many facets of September and the autumn season.
So, sit back, rest, relax, and let these poems help you embrace the beauty of autumn.
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Funny September Poems
September may be a time for reflection, but it’s also a time for laughter. These interesting poems about September will put a smile on your face and make you appreciate the lighter side of life.
1. September and October
by Eileen Clark
The September days can get very hot
Turn on the air conditioner, then it’s not
By late afternoon you are cold again
Turn off the air and let evening set it
The very next day you wake up to a chill
Is that really frost on your windowsill
Get out the sweaters and turn up the heat
The days to come this activity we’ll repeat
We are just now entering the first of November
Much talk of a heat wave, so try to remember
Weather change happens so don’t lose your cool
Predicting the weather makes a smart man a fool
2. A Fun of September!
by Ramesh T A
End of summer
And beginning of winter
Is September!
Sand melting heat
And sand wetting rain
Occur in September!
Full grown fruits
And fully blossomed flowers
You see in September!
Heat in the morning
And rain in evening and night
Town gets in September!
Summer holiday ends
And all festivals begin now on
From September on!
September begins
Fast pace of the year ever
With all festivals!
They being Ganesh Chadurthi,
Navrathri, Diwali, Christmas,
New Year and Pongal are…!
Time moves fast
As no boredom ever shows
Head from September!
Fun of September
Starts Autumn, Rain and Winter
All in one….!
3. For The Foxes
by Charles Bukowski
Don’t feel sorry for me.
I am a competent,
satisfied human being.
be sorry for the others
who
fidget
complain
who
constantly
rearrange their
lives
like
furniture.
juggling mates
and
attitudes
their
confusion is
constant
and it will
touch
whoever they
deal with.
beware of them:
one of their
key words is
‘love.’
and beware those who
only take
instructions from their
God
for they have
failed completely to live their own
lives.
don’t feel sorry for me
because I am alone
for even
at the most terrible
moments
humor
is my
companion.
I am a dog walking
backwards
I am a broken
banjo
I am a telephone wire
strung up in
Toledo, Ohio
I am a man
eating a meal
this night
in the month of
September.
put your sympathy
aside.
they say
water held up
Christ:
to come
through
you better be
nearly as
lucky.
Famous September Poems
These famous poets have captured the beauty of September in their own unique ways. Explore some of the most beloved and famous poems about September of all time.
1. September
Sweet is the voice that calls
From the 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!
2. A Morning in September
by Kenneth Morris
Pearl-pale from some dim Paradise
She wanders speechless, sibylline,
By ghostly coastlines half unseen—
Dim shores, wan seas, and grey, pale skies.
Tiptoe, and hushed with mysteries
Unwhisperable—aloof of mien,
Pearl-pale from some dim Paradise
She wanders, speechless, sibylline.
Grey Druidess of the dreaming eyes,
You give no gold for Summer’s green,
Nor deck the trees in passing sheen
Of gilt and carmined heraldries;
Pearl-pale from some dim Paradise
You wander speechless, sibylline!
3. September
by Helen Hunt Jackson
The golden-rod 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.
But none of all this beauty
Which floods the earth and air
Is unto me the secret
Which makes September fair.
‘T is a thing which I remember;
To name it thrills me yet:
One day of one September
I never can forget.
4. You Say You Love
by John Keats
I
You say you love ; but with a voice
Chaster than a nun’s, who singeth
The soft Vespers to herself
While the chime-bell ringeth-
O love me truly!
II
You say you love; but with a smile
Cold as sunrise in September,
As you were Saint Cupid ‘s nun,
And kept his weeks of Ember.
O love me truly!
III
You say you love but then your lips
Coral tinted teach no blisses,
More than coral in the sea
They never pout for kisses
O love me truly!
IV
You say you love ; but then your hand
No soft squeeze for squeeze returneth,
It is like a statue’s dead
While mine to passion burneth
O love me truly!
V
O breathe a word or two of fire!
Smile, as if those words should bum me,
Squeeze as lovers should O kiss
And in thy heart inurn me!
O love me truly!
5. September
by Carlos Wilcox
The sultry summer past, September comes,
Soft twilight of the slow-declining year.
All mildness, soothing loneliness, and peace;
The fading season ere the falling come,
More sober than the buxom blooming May,
And therefore less the favourite of the world,
But dearest month of all to pensive minds.
‘Tis now far spent; and the meridian sun,
Most sweetly smiling with attempered beams,
Sheds gently down a mild and grateful warmth.
Beneath its yellow lustre groves and woods,
Checker’d by one night’s frost with various hues,
While yet no wind has swept a leaf away,
Shine doubly rich. It were a sad delight
Down the smooth stream to glide, and see it tinged
Upon each brink with all the gorgeous hues,
The yellow, red, or purple of the trees
That singly, or in tufts, or forests thick
Adorn the shores; to see, perhaps, the side
Of some high mount reflected far below
With its bright colours, intermix’d with spots
Of darker green. Yes, it were sweetly sad
To wander in the open fields, and hear,
E’en at this hour, the noonday hardly past,
The lulling insects of the summer’s night;
To hear, where lately buzzing swarms were heard,
A lonely bee long roving here and there
To find a single flower, but all in vain;
Then rising quick and with a louder hum,
In widening circles round and round his head,
Straight by the listener flying clear away,
As if to bid the fields a last adieu;
To hear within the woodland’s sunny side,
Late fall of music, nothing save perhaps
The sound of nutshells by the squirrel dropp’d
From some tall beech fast falling through the leaves.
6. September…
by Mike Hauser
The coolness of the mornings
The month of love and bliss
Starting with two lovers
And that one September kiss
The month we found each other
When September held us tight
It would be you and me forever
We told that cool September night
Married in the middle of September
Could there be any other day
Yes I do and yes I will
From that moment forward I would say
Need I mention what month it was
When we were blessed with our first child
Or how the September moon was beaming
Like the both of us with smiles
September has always been the month
Of love or so it seems
Till the day my life was crucified
Along with September’s dreams
Did I hold our love to tightly
Was that what caused yours to slip away
To another less deserving
Causing this September pain
You were my life, my love, my shelter
My all on any given day
Now all I do, I do without you
In the cold September rain
7. September
by 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.
Inspirational September Poems
Looking for a little inspiration? These September inspirational poems will remind you of the beauty of life and the power of hope, even in the midst of change.
1. In September
by Sir Charles George Douglas Roberts
This windy, bright September afternoon
My heart is wide awake, yet full of dreams.
The air, alive with hushed confusion, teems
With scent of grain-fields, and a mystic rune,
Foreboding of the fall of Summer soon,
Keeps swelling and subsiding, till there seems
O’er all the world of valleys, hills, and streams,
Only the wind’s inexplicable tune.
My heart is full of dreams, yet wide awake.
I lie and watch the topmost tossing boughs
Of tall elms, pale against the vaulted blue;
But even now some yellowing branches shake,
Some hue of death the living green endows:—
If beauty flies, fain would I vanish too.
2. Thorns for September
by Blanche Yvonne Mosler
The rose is blowing now, a shattered thing,
That once held beauty high above the thorn.
It will be stripped some nearing autumn morn,
Such is the sadness that September brings!
The vanished loveliness….the sharper sorrow
That seeks out every flower and every tree,
Leaving them desolate for all to see,
Caught in the shivering chill of some tomorrow.
And so does Mary’s heart lie shattered, too,
As she looks up to find no blossoming tree –
Only the cross beyond Gethsemane
Stark in the winter wind. How much she knew
Of death and loneliness and bitter hours,
And sharp and cruel thorns that own no flowers!
3. To the Light of September
by W. S. Merwin
When you are already here
you appear to be only
a name that tells of you
whether you are present or not
and for now it seems as though
you are still summer
still the high familiar
endless summer
yet with a glint
of bronze in the chill mornings
and the late yellow petals
of the mullein fluttering
on the stalks that lean
over their broken
shadows across the cracked ground
but they all know
that you have come
the seed heads of the sage
the whispering birds
with nowhere to hide you
to keep you for later
you
who fly with them
you who are neither
before nor after
you who arrive
with blue plums
that have fallen through the night
perfect in the dew
4. I Cry in September
by BertJane Perez
I cry in September because I want to restart!
Every single moment, even the ones that broke my heart
You were my all, you were my Autumn!
You were my Fall, but I think you’ve forgotten…
I cry in September because there’s no longer an “us”!
We broke each other’s hearts and broke each other’s trust
I’m willing to bury all those seeds of regret
If you and me both agree that we should forget…
I cry in September, I cry each and every time!
We both know that we committed an unforgivable crime
To break this relationship is exactly like committing a ******!
We both need to understand that we both did this together…
I cry in September because this seems like the end…
I not only lost a lover, but also a friend…
I’ll never forget all our moments together…
Because of you, because of us, I cry in September…
Short September Poems
Sometimes less is more, and these short poetries about September prove it. These brief yet beautiful poems capture the essence of autumn in just a few lines.
1. September
by Annette Wynne
Golden in the garden,
Golden in the glen,
Golden, golden, golden
September’s here again!
Golden in the tree tops,
Golden in the sky—
Golden, golden, golden
September’s going by!
2. September
by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Lo! a ripe sheaf of many golden days
Gleaned by the year in autumn’s harvest ways,
With here and there, blood-tinted as an ember,
Some crimson poppy of a late delight
Atoning in its splendor for the flight
Of summer blooms and joys
This is September.
3. September
by Ada A. Mosher
The Autumn curfew rings: put out your light
Ye Summer-subjects all; to sleep, ye Flowers:
And quench your fires for the Winter night,
Ye Crimson Roses, that would keep late hours.
4. September
by Esse V. Hathaway
Blaze on blaze of scarlet sumach,
Roadsides lined with radiant gold,
Purple ironweed, regal, slender,
Rasping locust, shrill and bold.
Dusty smell in field and upland,
Sky of copper mixed with blue,
Life intense as is the weather—
Let’s away, just me and you!
Long September Poems
If you’re in the mood for something more contemplative, these long poetries about September offer a deeper exploration of the themes of autumn and the changing of the seasons.
1. A Ballad of Burial
by Rudyard Kipling
If down here I chance to die,
Solemnly I beg you take
All that is left of “I”
To the Hills for old sake’s sake,
Pack me very thoroughly
In the ice that used to slake
Pegs I drank when I was dry —
This observe for old sake’s sake.
To the railway station hie,
There a single ticket take
For Umballa — goods-train — I
Shall not mind delay or shake.
I shall rest contentedly
Spite of clamor coolies make;
Thus in state and dignity
Send me up for old sake’s sake.
Next the sleepy Babu wake,
Book a Kalka van “for four.”
Few, I think, will care to make
Journeys with me any more
As they used to do of yore.
I shall need a “special” break —
Thing I never took before —
Get me one for old sake’s sake.
After that — arrangements make.
No hotel will take me in,
And a bullock’s back would break
‘Neath the teak and leaden skin
Tonga ropes are frail and thin,
Or, did I a back-seat take,
In a tonga I might spin, —
Do your best for old sake’s sake.
After that — your work is done.
Recollect a Padre must
Mourn the dear departed one —
Throw the ashes and the dust.
Don’t go down at once. I trust
You will find excuse to “snake
Three days’ casual on the bust.”
Get your fun for old sake’s sake.
I could never stand the Plains.
Think of blazing June and May
Think of those September rains
Yearly till the Judgment Day!
I should never rest in peace,
I should sweat and lie awake.
Rail me then, on my decease,
To the Hills for old sake’s sake.
2. September
by Ellen P. Allerton
‘Tis autumn in our northern land.
The summer walks a queen no more;
Her sceptre drops from out her hand;
Her strength is spent, her passion o’er.
On lake and stream, on field and town,
The placid sun smiles calmly down.
The teeming earth its fruit has borne;
The grain fields lie all shorn and bare;
And where the serried ranks of corn
Wave proudly in the summer air,
And bravely tossed their yellow locks,
Now thickly stands the bristling shocks.
On sunny slope, on crannied wall
The grapes hang purpling in the sun;
Down to the turf the brown nuts fall,
And golden apples, one by one.
Our bins run o’er with ample store—
Thus autumn reaps what summer bore.
The mill turns by the waterfall;
The loaded wagons go and come;
All day I hear the teamster’s call,
All day I hear the threshers hum;
And many a shout and many a laugh
Comes breaking through the clouds of chaff.
Gay, careless sounds of homely toil!
With mirth and labor closely bent
The weary tiller of the soil
Wins seldom wealth, but oft content.
‘Tis better still if he but knows
What sweet, wild beauty round him glows.
The brook glides toward the sleeping lake—
Now babbling over sinning stones;
Now under clumps of bush and brake,
Hushing its brawl to murmuring tones;
And now it takes its winding path
Through meadows green with aftermath.
The frosty twilight early falls,
But household fires burn warm and red.
The cold may creep without the walls,
And growing things lie stark and dead—
No matter, so the hearth be bright
When household faces meet to-night.
3. On an Apple-Ripe September Morning
by Patrick Kavanagh
On an apple-ripe September morning
Through the mist-chill fields I went
With a pitch-fork on my shoulder
Less for use than for devilment.
The threshing mill was set-up, I knew,
In Cassidy’s haggard last night,
And we owed them a day at the threshing
Since last year. O it was delight
To be paying bills of laughter
And chaffy gossip in kind
With work thrown in to ballast
The fantasy-soaring mind.
As I crossed the wooden bridge I wondered
As I looked into the drain
If ever a summer morning should find me
Shovelling up eels again.
And I thought of the wasps’ nest in the bank
And how I got chased one day
Leaving the drag and the scraw-knife behind,
How I covered my face with hay.
The wet leaves of the cocksfoot
Polished my boots as I
Went round by the glistening bog-holes
Lost in unthinking joy.
I’ll be carrying bags to-day, I mused,
The best job at the mill
With plenty of time to talk of our loves
As we wait for the bags to fill.
Maybe Mary might call round…
And then I came to the haggard gate,
And I knew as I entered that I had come
Through fields that were part of no earthly estate.
4. Sestina
by Elizabeth Bishop
September rain falls on the house.
In the failing light, the old grandmother
sits in the kitchen with the child
beside the Little Marvel Stove,
reading the jokes from the almanac,
laughing and talking to hide her tears.
She thinks that her equinoctial tears
and the rain that beats on the roof of the house
were both foretold by the almanac,
but only known to a grandmother.
The iron kettle sings on the stove.
She cuts some bread and says to the child,
It’s time for tea now; but the child
is watching the teakettle’s small hard tears
dance like mad on the hot black stove,
the way the rain must dance on the house.
Tidying up, the old grandmother
hangs up the clever almanac
on its string. Birdlike, the almanac
hovers half open above the child,
hovers above the old grandmother
and her teacup full of dark brown tears.
She shivers and says she thinks the house
feels chilly, and puts more wood in the stove.
It was to be, says the Marvel Stove.
I know what I know, says the almanac.
With crayons the child draws a rigid house
and a winding pathway. Then the child
puts in a man with buttons like tears
and shows it proudly to the grandmother.
But secretly, while the grandmother
busies herself about the stove,
the little moons fall down like tears
from between the pages of the almanac
into the flower bed the child
has carefully placed in the front of the house.
Time to plant tears, says the almanac.
The grandmother sings to the marvelous stove
and the child draws another inscrutable house.
5. The Art of Letting Go
by Phasma De Oceanus
September was a
Porcupine kiss.
My tongue, swollen
And aching to
Spill these words
And thoughts
And feelings
On why it hurts to talk.
My lips, fat and
Speckled in ruby,
September is a jagged
Blade, rusted by
Memory and
“Why did you go?”
September tasted like
Pennies and
Smelled like morning breath.
It sounded like
Grinding teeth and
I couldn’t move for days.
September felt like
Stagnation.
Until I saw the color,
And it was like
My eyes were brand new.
Another who could see
Them in his own way
Lifted some of the
Burden.
He’s a reminder to exhale,
To appreciate the loss
Of the ones we love;
The poster child of
This type of pain.
So I breathe,
And September is here
Again.
But now September
Tastes like sweet *** and
L&M, the gemstones
Kissed from my lips.
September smells like
Warm sheets and apples,
And it sounds just
Like your laugh.
September is a
Drunken kiss and
101 “I love you’s”,
And even that isn’t
Enough to express
How much it all means.
September feels like
Celebration,
As it should have felt.
6. Barbara Frietchie
by John Greenleaf Whittier
Up from the meadows rich with corn,
Clear in the cool September morn,
The clustered spires of Frederick stand
Green-walled by the hills of Maryland.
Round about them orchards sweep,
Apple and peach tree fruited deep,
Fair as the garden of the Lord
To the eyes of the famished rebel horde,
On that pleasant morn of the early fall
When Lee marched over the mountain-wall;
Over the mountains winding down,
Horse and foot, into Frederick town.
Forty flags with their silver stars,
Forty flags with their crimson bars,
Flapped in the morning wind: the sun
Of noon looked down, and saw not one.
Up rose old Barbara Frietchie then,
Bowed with her fourscore years and ten;
Bravest of all in Frederick town,
She took up the flag the men hauled down;
In her attic window the staff she set,
To show that one heart was loyal yet,
Up the street came the rebel tread,
Stonewall Jackson riding ahead.
Under his slouched hat left and right
He glanced; the old flag met his sight.
‘Halt!’ – the dust-brown ranks stood fast.
‘Fire!’ – out blazed the rifle-blast.
It shivered the window, pane and sash;
It rent the banner with seam and gash.
Quick, as it fell, from the broken staff
Dame Barbara snatched the silken scarf.
She leaned far out on the window-sill,
And shook it forth with a royal will.
‘Shoot, if you must, this old gray head,
But spare your country’s flag,’ she said.
A shade of sadness, a blush of shame,
Over the face of the leader came;
The nobler nature within him stirred
To life at that woman’s deed and word;
‘Who touches a hair of yon gray head
Dies like a dog! March on! he said.
All day long through Frederick street
Sounded the tread of marching feet:
All day long that free flag tost
Over the heads of the rebel host.
Ever its torn folds rose and fell
On the loyal winds that loved it well;
And through the hill-gaps sunset light
Shone over it with a warm good-night.
Barbara Frietchie’s work is o’er,
And the Rebel rides on his raids nor more.
Honor to her! and let a tear
Fall, for her sake, on Stonewalls’ bier.
Over Barbara Frietchie’s grave,
Flag of Freedom and Union, wave!
Peace and order and beauty draw
Round they symbol of light and law;
And ever the stars above look down
On thy stars below in Frederick town!
7. September Rains
by Lilly Judy Emery
When I look into your eyes
it is like I am looking in stain glass
seeing a fire burning on high
will you hold restrain from me
I can see the pains you hold
but you stand so bold
just to tell me you have love for me
that I am your queen
but I cried out how can that be
you don’t even know me
and this is what he told me
I cast pain upon all who see’s you
because I will never let another have you
or love you
You will always be my everything
when Dark Angel taken me down
he looked deep into my crying eyes
I will always be your only one
I am your king of darkness
the one you will always miss
I had cast my spells upon on your head
you will never forget
this cold September night
Dark Angel would tell me his stories
and tell me so many lies
just to keep me on your side
Don’t you see what you are doing to me?
you are cutting me way too deep
I am starting to feel I can no longer breath
you are taking life out of me
I know nothing last forever
this is something you tell me most of the time
but when I look into your eyes
I see stain glass of blood running into the sea
I start to cry because that is my life
you handed down to me
in darken dreams
I know deep within my heart
people do change
Why don’t you give it a try
then I told him over and over
I could never love a man like you
that would be so hard for me to love someone
when he isn’t free to love me back
the way I need him too
your heart is so cold
I ‘m starting to think that is all you know
is a life of darkness
So I hold a candle up on high
into that cold September sky
oh did it rain with no end to the pain
this old candle has your name
I tell myself don’t feel a shame
because I know I am not the blame
of yesterdays pains
Oh, why September rains
keep the memories a flowing
If we only had taken some time
you could see I had never lied
but now I set out in that cold September rains
crying out so much pains
I try to rest my head upon my bed
but when I fall into a deep sleep
I will see you
what is my poor heart to do
when I still Love You?
September Poems That Rhyme
Rhyme adds a musical quality to poetry that can make it even more enjoyable to read. These poems about September with rhyming words create a playful and engaging rhythm.
1. A September Morning in Nebraska
by C. M. Barrow
The sun has not yet risen, but his golden glow,
Lights up the misty portals of the far off east;
The wavering shadows o’er the prairies come and go,
And all the eerie sounds of night have ceased.
Nature’s own songsters, from the cotton trees,
Fill all the languorous air with melody.
The corn fields rustle in the gentle morning breeze,
And from the coming dawn the night-mist flees.
Anon a golden disc appears to view,
Afar, o’er shimmering seas of grass and corn—
Like diamonds shine the myriad drops of dew,
Up flies the lark, another day is born.
2. A Beautiful Day
by Francis Duggan
In the blue sky just a few specks of gray
In the evening of a beautiful day
Though last night it rained and more rain on the way
And that more rain is needed ‘twould be fair to say
On a gum tree in the park the white backed magpie sing
He sings all year round from the Summer to Spring
But in late Winter and Spring he even sings at night
So nice to hear him piping in the moonlight
Spring it is with us and Summer is near
And beautiful weather for the time of year
Such beauty the poets and the artists inspire
Of talking of Nature could one ever tire
Her green of September Mother Nature wear
And the perfumes of blossoms in the evening air.
3. September
by John Charles Mcneill
I have not been among the woods,
Nor seen the milk-weeds burst their hoods,
The downy thistle-seeds take wing,
Nor the squirrel at his garnering.
And yet I know that, up to God,
The mute month holds her goldenrod,
That clump and copse, o’errun with vines,
Twinkle with clustered muscadines,
And in deserted churchyard places
Dwarf apples smile with sunburnt faces.
I know how, ere her green is shed,
The dogwood pranks herself with red;
How the pale dawn, chilled through and through,
Comes drenched and draggled with her dew;
How all day long the sunlight seems
As if it lit a land of dreams,
Till evening, with her mist and cloud,
Begins to weave her royal shroud.
If yet, as in old Homer’s land,
God walks with mortals, hand in hand,
Somewhere to-day, in this sweet weather,
Thinkest thou not they walk together?
4. It’s September
by Edgar Albert Guest
It’s September, and the orchards are afire with red and gold,
And the nights with dew are heavy, and the morning’s sharp with cold;
Now the garden’s at its gayest with the salvia blazing red
And the good old-fashioned asters laughing at us from their bed;
Once again in shoes and stockings are the children’s little feet,
And the dog now does his snoozing on the bright side of the street.
It’s September, and the cornstalks are as high as they will go,
And the red cheeks of the apples everywhere begin to show;
Now the supper’s scarcely over ere the darkness settles down
And the moon looms big and yellow at the edges of the town;
Oh, it’s good to see the children, when their little prayers are said,
Duck beneath the patchwork covers when they tumble into bed.
It’s September, and a calmness and a sweetness seem to fall
Over everything that’s living, just as though it hears the call
Of Old Winter, trudging slowly, with his pack of ice and snow,
In the distance over yonder, and it somehow seems as though
Every tiny little blossom wants to look its very best
When the frost shall bite its petals and it droops away to rest.
It’s September! It’s the fullness and the ripeness of the year;
All the work of earth is finished, or the final tasks are near,
But there is no doleful wailing; every living thing that grows,
For the end that is approaching wears the finest garb it knows.
And I pray that I may proudly hold my head up high and smile
When I come to my September in the golden afterwhile.
5. Roses for September
by Blanche Yvonne Mosler
The year holds countless roses for its own,
And I have loved them all, from April on;
But only once I wept with the season flown,
And only once I grieved with a season gone….
Not Springtime with young blossoming drew a tear,
Even when Mary’s wild flowering blew away, –
I waited then for summer, without fear,
And knew beyond June’s beauty August lay
Rampant with crimson flame! No, not until
September circled, did my heart feel pain,
When Autumn’s roses full-blown…..as roses will…
Scattered their petals in the colder rain.
For I remembered Mary used to know
Last roses, too, against the winter’s snow!
6. September
by A. B.
An afternoon more calm has never shone.
The caterpillar labors through the grass;
The garden spider, splendid on her throne,
Heeds not the puffs of wind that overpass
And shake her citadel; with downward head
She keeps her only watch, indifferent
To time. The ghostly smoke that curls from dead
Damp leaves heaped by the wall is indolent
In all its ways. And quiet sounds are meet:
The worker’s thoughtful whistle here or there,
A wagon creaking through the shady street,
A gentle whinny trembling in the air,
The sparrow’s cheep, and sweeter than all these,
The old-knife-grinder’s bell on the light breeze.
September Poems for Kids
Looking for poems that are kid-friendly? These fun and whimsical poems are perfect for young readers who are just starting to explore the world of poetry.
1. September September
by Dulce Theart
september september
summer is over
the days and nights
are getting ever so colder
school bells are ringing
the wasps have stopped stinging
september september
autumn is coming
the leaves will fall
soon will follow
october
november
but for now
we are stuck in
september september
2. That September Rain
by Dorsey Baker
As we wave
Summer goodbye
As we wave
Summer goodbye
September rain
clouds up the sky
That September rain
That September rain
is a sign
that summer
will soon be gone
That September rain
That September rain
is really
coming down
it wets the leaves
that are
already
lying around
That September rain
its falling
upon the ground
3. Blackberry Eating
by Galway Kinnell
I love to go out in late September
among the fat, overripe, icy, black blackberries
to eat blackberries for breakfast,
the stalks very prickly, a penalty
they earn for knowing the black art
of blackberry-making; and as I stand among them
lifting the stalks to my mouth, the ripest berries
fall almost unbidden to my tongue,
as words sometimes do, certain peculiar words
like strengths or squinched,
many-lettered, one-syllabled lumps,
which I squeeze, squinch open, and splurge well
in the silent, startled, icy, black language
of blackberry — eating in late September.
4. September’s Child
by Sister Maryanna
September’s skies are sapphire hue;
Blue gentians star the woods at morn
Near crystal pools in woodland aisles –
In this bright month a Queen was born.
No silver fanfare filled the air
As angel wings flashed round the child;
No crown was placed upon her head,
But at her halo, Heaven smiled.
October’s trees wear rosaries
Of gold and scarlet, green and brown,
And as the west wind fingers them
The Ave-leaves drift slowly down.
May raises high her blossom-shrines
Where bird-choirs sing their wood-notes wild,
But both these months pay homage to
A blue-gowned Queen – September’s child.
September Poems for Seniors
September may be a time of change, but it can also be a time of reflection for those who have lived long lives. These poems are perfect for seniors who want to explore the deeper themes of autumn.
1. A Calendar of Sonnets: September
by Helen Hunt Jackson
O golden month! How high thy gold is heaped!
The yellow birch-leaves shine like bright coins strung
On wands; the chestnut’s yellow pennons tongue
To every wind its harvest challenge. Steeped
In yellow, still lie fields where wheat was reaped;
And yellow still the corn sheaves, stacked among
The yellow gourds, which from the earth have wrung
Her utmost gold. To highest boughs have leaped
The purple grape,–last thing to ripen, late
By very reason of its precious cost.
O Heart, remember, vintages are lost
If grapes do not for freezing night-dews wait.
Think, while thou sunnest thyself in Joy’s estate,
Mayhap thou canst not ripen without frost!
2. September to Remember
by Anonymous
The month of perfection has come for the sons and daughters of zion to possess their possession,
with the understanding that September is a month like no other month to remember in the history of histories for those who believe in the word of the lord.
The month of fulfilment has come for the children and people of God to possess and inherit the land whereon their feet have trodden upon,
with the knowledge that September is a month like no other month to remember in the season of seasons for God’s promises to be fulfilled in the lives of those that wait upon him.
The month of harvest has come for the righteous and faithful people of God to reap and enjoy the fruit of their labour,
with the awareness that September is a month like no other month to remember in the memory of memories for those who believe that the land is bountifully ripe for harvest and truely plentious for conquest.
The month of liberation has come for the captives in captivity to become captains of the captors in the land of captivity,
knowing that the Captain of captians have ascended on high and led captivity captive.
The month of visitation has come for the windows and doors of heaven to open unto them that are expectant of Divine favour, blessings and visitation,
knowing that the presence and power of God is presently present to present to those who are presently present, presents that are presents from above.
The month of dominion has come for the diligent and dedicated David’s and Deborah’s of this generation to dominate and have dominion over the nobles among the people and forces of the earth,
knowing that God have given us power and authority over the earth to dominate and have dominion over the high and the mighty.
The month of establishment has come for the prudent and pure ones in heart to see God undertaking and establishing his promises in their lives,
with the understanding that God is not unfaithful to forget all our labour and works of righteousness and service to his kingdom.
The month of manifestation has come for the sons and daughters of zion to be Divinely empowered for the manifestation of God’s glory on earth,
with the knowledge that the earth and all that dwell in it is the lord’s and the fullness thereof.
The month of remembrance has come for the book of remembrance to be opened for the obedient and commited ones to be celebrated by heaven,
with the awareness that God have separated the month of September to remember those that serve and call upon him with a pure heart.
This is September to Remember.
3. Again it is September
by Jessie Redmon Fauset
Again it is September!
It seems so strange that I who made no vows
Should sit here desolate this golden weather
And wistfully remember—
A sigh of deepest yearning,
A glowing look and words that knew no bounds,
A swift response, an instant glad surrender
To kisses wild and burning!
Ay me!
Again it is September!
It seems so strange that I who kept those vows
Should sit here lone, and spent, and mutely praying
That I may not remember!
4. A little Nod to Tom Jones….September
by Anonymous
I try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh so mellow*
I try to remember the kind of September
When I wore my navy blue skirt
with white bottom down top,
with glistening extension cornrows
so tight like dreadlocks.
I try to remember the kind of September
When I was young and carefree and no responsibilities
Now it’s September those after school activities.
Oh shiver me timbers to all the bus drivers
Welcome to another school year with tears
Hello September Poems
Sometimes the start of a new month can be a cause for celebration. These “Hello September” poems welcome the new month with open arms and a sense of excitement.
1. Hello September
by Mystic Rose
Tempering colors of magnetic reds and browns
September, you sure know how to make me turn around
enclosing me in comforting space warm as a fireplace
you make me long for firewood and campgrounds
Maple trees of yellow and honey wood leaves
you make me want to trade my frosty lips for a cinnamon kiss
down in the meadows, the woods are whispering
saying their goodbyes to La Fleurs Fe Lis
Linden wood dreams beneath a golden Autumn
the cedar gum and the cedar oils are healing balms of choice
aiming for the hills on a cool September eve
suddenly I feel like I have found my voice;
I love you September more then words can say
I think I’m going to go jump in the leaves,
one more time, before my last hurray !
2. Goodbye August Hello September
by Anonymous
The long month of August is over thrown away by time
smile on my face because I love the hit or miss rain and
thunderstorms, hanging out with friends and family :
trying new things like banana pancakes and trying
a new look.
3. Hello September
by Richard Tipping
Goodbye August,
Thank you for the summer,
Autumns coming, hi September,
Could be viewed a bummer
Schools return and colleges,
And back to work for all,
Spring and summer gone,
September always starts the fall.
Increasing traffic on the roads,
Now holidays are done,
The shops displays already plan,
For christmastime to come.
New students go to uni,
To enjoy their student lives,
And as the nights get darker ,
There are now less evening drives.
Look forward to the fireworks,
Halloween before November,
But let’s not wish our lives away,
Say hello to September!
4. Oh, Hello September
by Constance La France
I want to be lost in a sea of rainbow leaves
as the drum of time rolls and September is here
and Summer is a shadow on the wall of time
today clouds sail across a blue azure sky
though some clouds are still and powder puff beautiful
but sadly my garden in the stillness is decaying
and fading, fading each day with whispers of farewell
for the nights are cool and crisp
oh, hello September, I welcome your breezy ways
and the leaves that will fall and float, spin and twirl
it is time for pumpkin pies and roasted chestnuts
cuddly sweaters and lighting a crackling fire
and making fat apple pies like grandma used to bake
and going for walks to enjoy the vibrant nature change
my golden hair flowing and my cheeks blushed mauve
and my lips ruby red waiting for a raindrop kiss
the lovely emerald trees now vivid colors against the sky
and squirrels are busy gathering and birds tweet a song
as my feet crunch the leaves and the air is scented earthy
oh, hello September …
5. Hello September
by Eve Roper
September, I welcome your brand new moon,
Fun autumn color changes that occur
Blessing new seeds to fulfill new fruit soon
Falling in love with autumn cool breeze that does stir
Sounds of strumming strings unfurl brittle limbs
A uninterrupted breeze, a soothing kiss amber leaves crowd
Enchanting they fall round and round with wings
Life elegance amongst scribble crayoned clouds
With first breath, the wakeful light of dawn days
Departing summer amid cooler nights
Spirit’s pureness admires and sings praise
Losing oneself in serenity of the dim sky’s sight
Remember September as Fall enters
Passionately and unhurried moon veils the sky
Surrendering to hints of cool winter
6. Hello September
by Kim Rodrigues
Pleasantries of passivity before the pinch of shrill cold
ripples over the landscape in the suburbs of Buffalo—
before its trees crispin and leaves twirl about— giggling
like school girls, rippling in the claustrophobic dark.
My existence, contingent on three months: conceived
in January – a honeymoon baby, born in October, yet
September is pivotal to my existence as two sets
of twins were born, one year and a few miles apart.
September is neither hot nor cold in the passing
of Spring – I must state that this intermediary stage
is not prosaic – its conjoined arm in arm seasons
for lovers, families, bundles of joy, apple of the eyes.
Climbing of trees, climatic offspring of seedlings,
sweet and sour opposites attract the saplings
and their mentors — momentous happenings
that thrill through muscle memories of September.
Outdoors to explore as air conditioners cool off,
as central heating waits in line, as school dances
erupt, and festivals bring their baskets of fruit
for those jiggling pocketfuls of change. Exchange
of hopefulness, the eye of the storm with its zephyr
zealousness— fertile ground of safety on simmer.
One honeymoon baby drifted South toward peaches,
pecans and the annual Yellow Daisy Festival.
Roots of September— my smile wide, in dungarees,
seasonal daring, my squeeze, and succulent sweetheart.
Hello September, a selfie-group hug, a gregarious greeting.
Slipping from Summer, swaddling into such colder winds.
September Poems for Birthday
If you or someone you know was born in September, these September birthday poems are a great way to celebrate the occasion and the beauty of the autumn season.
1. September Birthday
by Anonymous
September, September
Her Birthday falls in September
Under the dreary clouds
Days are bright with her
Sunshine smiles
Spreading love for
Miles and miles
Never hard to notice
So easy to remember
September, September
Her birthday falls in September
Brisk winds and orange leaves
Weddings, anniversaries and birthday’s
Out amongst the trees
A special time of year
For a special someone many hold dear
Not the kind to be forgotten
The kind you love to remember
September, September
Her birthday falls in September
2. Happy Birthday Two Us
by Hilo Poet
Autumn equinox nigh rathe September,
Wraps of summer unwrapped gift from a friend,
Occasions annular trek, remember,
A statement by a newfound friend, again,
Cinder Girl’s birthday, two glows the ember.
3. September
by Xilhouette
Oh September, September
Lovely day today aye?
As I remember…
It’s today! Happy birthday!
But, year after year
I’ve never called anyone dear;
Year after year,
no comes near
Each year is dry,
Not one tear to cry
And; I wonder why…
Will it be this way ’till I die?
Ah September, September
Give me a smile
One that would last for a while
Ah September, Please let me remember,
that nineteenth day,
that I did my way.
Oh it’s September: happy birthday!
At least for today…
4. September Surprise
by Sandra Haight
This time every year
September, I remember
a special surprise-
Placed into my toddler-arms
my newborn baby brother
Today is his Birthday!
5. Hello, September
by Andrea Dietrich
Hello, September –
You crept in so quickly
the calendar is halfway through with you!
My birthday came and went.
Wishes that I made – I hope they’ll all come true.
Hello, September –
Thank you for the roses
which on our bushes bloom violet and red.
Three weeks ago just buds –
they now stand high and way above my head!
Hello, September –
Mornings now are cooler.
Gone is August’s horrid heat at midday.
October, please delay.
Forever, dear September, could you stay?
September Poems about Autumn
These poems are all about celebrating the arrival of autumn, from the changing leaves to the cooler temperatures. Explore the beauty of the season through these autumn-inspired poems.
1. September Days
by Helen L. Smith
O month of fairer, rarer days
Than Summer’s best have been;
When skies at noon are burnished blue,
And winds at evening keen;
When tangled, tardy-blooming things
From wild waste places peer,
And drooping golden grain-heads tell
That harvest-time is near.
Though Autumn tints amid the green
Are gleaming, here and there,
And spicy Autumn odors float
Like incense on the air,
And sounds we mark as Autumn’s own
Her nearing steps betray,
In gracious mood she seems to stand
And bid the Summer stay.
Though ‘neath the trees, with fallen leaves
The sward be lightly strown,
And nests deserted tell the tale
Of summer bird-folk flown;
Though white with frost the lowlands lie
When lifts the morning haze,
Still there’s a charm in every hour
Of sweet September days.
2. September
by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
My life’s long radiant Summer halts at last,
And lo! beside my path way I behold
Pursuing Autumn glide: nor frost nor cold
Has heralded her presence; but a vast
Sweet calm that comes not till the year has passed
Its fevered solstice, and a tinge of gold
Subdues the vivid colouring of bold
And passion-hued emotions. I will cast
My August days behind me with my May,
Nor strive to drag them into Autumn’s place,
Nor swear I hope when I do but remember.
Now violet and rose have had their day,
I’ll pluck the soberer asters with good grace
And call September nothing but September.
3. September
by Rebecca Hey
Now the Earth yields her strength! The teeming ground
Seems lighten’d of its curse: on every side
The hills rejoice, the valleys far and wide
Stand thick with corn, and harvest-songs resound.
The garden its rich dainties scatters round,
While lane and copse, by Nature only till’d,
An ample store of humbler fruitage yield,
Berries and nuts by Autumn suns embrown’d
But, ah! amid such visions of delight,
Those few rich tints upon the forest boughs,
Like the fine flush, so ominously bright,
Which on her victim’s cheek Consumption throws,
Too truly speak of wasting and decay,
And, sighing, I pursue my woodland way.
4. A Dream
by Boris Pasternak
I dreamt of autumn in the window’s twilight,
And you, a tipsy jesters’ throng amidst. ‘
And like a falcon, having stooped to slaughter,
My heart returned to settle on your wrist.
But time went on, grew old and deaf. Like thawing
Soft ice old silk decayed on easy chairs.
A bloated sunset from the garden painted
The glass with bloody red September tears.
But time grew old and deaf. And you, the loud one,
Quite suddenly were still. This broke a spell.
The dreaming ceased at once, as though in answer
To an abruptly silenced bell.
And I awakened. Dismal as the autumn
The dawn was dark. A stronger wind arose
To chase the racing birchtrees on the skyline,
As from a running cart the streams of straws.
5. September’s Child
by David Lessard
September’s child is special
born in autumn’s gold;
brother to the pumpkin
sister to the cold.
September’s child is lovely
the heart’s in the right place;
born in the changing leaves
adorned with God’s own grace.
September’s child is full of love
for family and for friends;
granting each an honored spot
with love that never ends.
September’s child is filled with life
for enjoying nature’s touch;
relishing the autumn rains
not too little, nor too much.
September’s child is special
between the heat and cold;
graced with special beauty
graced by autumn’s gold.
6. Autumn Journal
by Louis MacNeice
“September has come, it is hers
Whose vitality leaps in the autumn,
Whose nature prefers
Trees without leaves and a fire in the fireplace.
So I give her this month and the next
Though the whole of my year should be hers who has rendered already
So many of its days intolerable or perplexed
But so many more so happy.
Who has left a scent on my life, and left my walls
Dancing over and over with her shadow
Whose hair is twined in all my waterfalls
And all of London littered with remembered kisses.”
Final Thoughts
September is a month of transition, marking the end of summer and the start of autumn.
The changing colors of leaves, the cooler weather, and the crisp air make it a favorite season for many.
September poems capture the essence of this season, the beauty of the changing leaves, and the feelings of transition that come with it.
From humorous to inspirational, these poems evoke the unique sensations of autumn, reminding us of the systematic nature of life and the power of change.
Poems about September help us to reflect on the past, appreciate the present, and look forward to the future.
