Short Poetry by Popular Famous Poets

 Poet
1 William Wordsworth
2 William Shakespeare
3 Oscar Wilde
4 Emily Dickinson
5 Rabindranath Tagore
6 Maya Angelou
7 Robert Frost
8 Langston Hughes
9 Walt Whitman
10 Shel Silverstein
11 William Blake
12 Pablo Neruda
13 Rudyard Kipling
14 Sylvia Plath
15 Alfred Lord Tennyson
16 William Butler Yeats
17 Tupac Shakur
18 Edward Estlin (E E) Cummings
19 Charles Bukowski
20 Sarojini Naidu
21 Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
22 Muhammad Ali
23 Christina Rossetti
24 Billy Collins
25 Alice Walker
26 Sandra Cisneros
27 Ogden Nash
28 Carol Ann Duffy
29 John Donne
30 Edgar Allan Poe
31 Ralph Waldo Emerson
32 Raymond Carver
33 Nikki Giovanni
34 John Keats
35 Lewis Carroll
36 Spike Milligan
37 Thunchaththu Ramanujan Ezhuthachan
38 Thomas Hardy
39 Mark Twain
40 Carl Sandburg
41 Percy Bysshe Shelley
42 Anne Sexton
43 Alexander Pushkin
44 Roger McGough
45 Henry David Thoreau
46 Wendell Berry
47 Sara Teasdale
48 Victor Hugo
49 Elizabeth Barrett Browning
50 George (Lord) Byron

Famous Short Autumn Poems

Famous Short Autumn Poems. Short Autumn Poetry by Famous Poets. A collection of the all-time best Autumn short poems

Other Short Poem Pages


Poems are below...


Autumn | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Emily Bronte

Fall leaves fall

 Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away;
Lengthen night and shorten day;
Every leaf speaks bliss to me
Fluttering from the autumn tree.
I shall smile when wreaths of snow Blossom where the rose should grow; I shall sing when night's decay Ushers in a drearier day.


by Matsuo Basho

Autumn moonlight

 Autumn moonlight--
 a worm digs silently
 into the chestnut.


by Robert Louis Stevenson

Autumn Fires

 In the other gardens 
And all up the vale, 
From the autumn bonfires 
See the smoke trail! 

Pleasant summer over 
And all the summer flowers, 
The red fire blazes, 
The grey smoke towers.
Sing a song of seasons! Something bright in all! Flowers in the summer, Fires in the fall!


by Billy Collins

Flames

 Smokey the Bear heads
into the autumn woods
with a red can of gasoline
and a box of wooden matches.
His ranger's hat is cocked at a disturbing angle.
His brown fur gleams under the high sun as his paws, the size of catcher's mitts, crackle into the distance.
He is sick of dispensing warnings to the careless, the half-wit camper, the dumbbell hiker.
He is going to show them how a professional does it.


by Dorothy Parker

Autumn Valentine

 In May my heart was breaking-
Oh, wide the wound, and deep!
And bitter it beat at waking,
And sore it split in sleep.
And when it came November, I sought my heart, and sighed, "Poor thing, do you remember?" "What heart was that?" it cried.


by Matsuo Basho

Four Haiku

 Spring:
A hill without a name
Veiled in morning mist.
The beginning of autumn: Sea and emerald paddy Both the same green.
The winds of autumn Blow: yet still green The chestnut husks.
A flash of lightning: Into the gloom Goes the heron's cry.


by Henry David Thoreau

On Fields Oer Which the Reapers Hand has Passed

 On fields o'er which the reaper's hand has pass'd
Lit by the harvest moon and autumn sun,
My thoughts like stubble floating in the wind
And of such fineness as October airs,
There after harvest could I glean my life
A richer harvest reaping without toil,
And weaving gorgeous fancies at my will
In subtler webs than finest summer haze.


by Carl Sandburg

Theme In Yellow

 I spot the hills
With yellow balls in autumn.
I light the prairie cornfields Orange and tawny gold clusters And I am called pumpkins.
On the last of October When dusk is fallen Children join hands And circle round me Singing ghost songs And love to the harvest moon; I am a jack-o'-lantern With terrible teeth And the children know I am fooling.


by Adrienne Rich

November 1968

 Stripped
you're beginning to float free
up through the smoke of brushfires
and incinerators
the unleafed branches won't hold you
nor the radar aerials

You're what the autumn knew would happen
after the last collapse
of primary color
once the last absolutes were torn to pieces
you could begin

How you broke open, what sheathed you
until this moment
I know nothing about it
my ignorance of you amazes me
now that I watch you
starting to give yourself away
to the wind


by Sarojini Naidu

Autumn Song

 Like a joy on the heart of a sorrow,
 The sunset hangs on a cloud;
A golden storm of glittering sheaves,
Of fair and frail and fluttering leaves,
 The wild wind blows in a cloud.
Hark to a voice that is calling To my heart in the voice of the wind: My heart is weary and sad and alone, For its dreams like the fluttering leaves have gone, And why should I stay behind?


by Matsuo Basho

First day of spring

 First day of spring--
I keep thinking about
 the end of autumn.


by Rabindranath Tagore

Lovers Gifts IV: She Is Near to My Heart

 She is near to my heart as the meadow-flower to the earth; she is
sweet to me as sleep is to tired limbs.
My love for her is my life flowing in its fullness, like a river in autumn flood, running with serene abandonment.
My songs are one with my love, like the murmur of a stream, that sings with all its waves and current.


by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Autumn Within

 It is autumn; not without
But within me is the cold.
Youth and spring are all about; It is I that have grown old.
Birds are darting through the air, Singing, building without rest; Life is stirring everywhere, Save within my lonely breast.
There is silence: the dead leaves Fall and rustle and are still; Beats no flail upon the sheaves, Comes no murmur from the mill.


by Sylvia Plath

Frog Autumn

 Summer grows old, cold-blooded mother.
The insects are scant, skinny.
In these palustral homes we only Croak and wither.
Mornings dissipate in somnolence.
The sun brightens tardily Among the pithless reeds.
Flies fail us.
he fen sickens.
Frost drops even the spider.
Clearly The genius of plenitude Houses himself elsewhwere.
Our folk thin Lamentably.


by William Morris

Autumn

 Laden Autumn here I stand
Worn of heart, and weak of hand:
Nought but rest seems good to me,
Speak the word that sets me free.


by Ellis Parker Butler

October

 The forest holds high carnival to-day,
And every hill-side glows with gold and fire;
Ivy and sumac dress in colors gay,
And oak and maple mask in bright attire.
The hoarded wealth of sober autumn days In lavish mood for motley garb is spent, And nature for the while at folly plays, Knowing the morrow brings a snowy Lent.


by Sara Teasdale

Sleepless

 If I could have your arms tonight-
But half the world and the broken sea
Lie between you and me.
The autumn rain reverberates in the courtyard, Beating all night against the barren stone, The sound of useless rain in the desolate courtyard Makes me more alone.
If you were here, if you were only here- My blood cries out to you all night in vain As sleepless as the rain.


by Diane di Prima

The Belltower

 the weighing is done in autumn
and the sifting
what is to be threshed
is threshed in autumn
what is to be gathered is taken

the wind does not die in autumn
the moon
shifts endlessly thru flying clouds
in autumn the sea is high

& a golden light plays everywhere
making it harder
to go one's way.
all leavetaking is in autumn where there is leavetaking it is always autumn & the sun is a crystal ball on a golden stand & the wind cannont make the spruce scream loud enough


by James Wright

Autumn Begins In Martins Ferry Ohio

 In the Shreve High football stadium,
I think of Polacks nursing long beers in Tiltonsville,
And gray faces of Negroes in the blast furnace at Benwood,
And the ruptured night watchman of Wheeling Steel,
Dreaming of heroes.
All the proud fathers are ashamed to go home.
Their women cluck like starved pullets, Dying for love.
Therefore, Their sons grow suicidally beautiful At the beginning of October, And gallop terribly against each other's bodies.


by Carl Sandburg

Autumn Movement

 I CRIED over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts.
The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds.
The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things come in the first spit of snow on the northwest wind, and the old things go, not one lasts.


by Stevie Smith

Autumn

 He told his life story to Mrs.
Courtly Who was a widow.
'Let us get married shortly', He said.
'I am no longer passionate, But we can have some conversation before it is too late.
'


by Wang Wei

A Song of an Autumn Night

 Under the crescent moon a light autumn dew 
Has chilled the robe she will not change -- 
And she touches a silver lute all night, 
Afraid to go back to her empty room.


by Li Po

Autumn River Song

 The moon shimmers in green water.
White herons fly through the moonlight.
The young man hears a girl gathering water-chestnuts: into the night, singing, they paddle home together.


by Paul Verlaine

Autumn Song

With long sobs
the violin-throbs
of autumn wound
my heart with languorous
and montonous
sound.
Choking and pale When i mind the tale the hours keep, my memory strays down other days and I weep; and I let me go where ill winds blow now here, now there, harried and sped, even as a dead leaf, anywhere.


by Matsuo Basho

Blowing stones

 Blowing stones
along the road on Mount Asama,
 the autumn wind.