Short Poetry by Popular Famous Poets

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

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Famous Short Summer Poems

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

Other Short Poem Pages


Poems are below...


Summer | Short Famous Poems and Poets

 
by Emily Bronte

Love and Friendship

 Love is like the wild rose-briar,
Friendship like the holly-tree --
The holly is dark when the rose-briar blooms
But which will bloom most contantly?
The wild-rose briar is sweet in the spring,
Its summer blossoms scent the air;
Yet wait till winter comes again
And who wil call the wild-briar fair?
Then scorn the silly rose-wreath now
And deck thee with the holly's sheen,
That when December blights thy brow
He may still leave thy garland green.


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 Carl Sandburg

Under the Harvest Moon

 Under the harvest moon,
When the soft silver
Drips shimmering
Over the garden nights,
Death, the gray mocker,
Comes and whispers to you
As a beautiful friend
Who remembers.
Under the summer roses When the flagrant crimson Lurks in the dusk Of the wild red leaves, Love, with little hands, Comes and touches you With a thousand memories, And asks you Beautiful, unanswerable questions.


by Yosa Buson

Early summer rain

 Early summer rain--
houses facing the river,
 two of them


by Adrian Green

Luna Lake Haiku

 New moon on the lake.
Your voice and the nightingale serenade springtime.
Full moon on the lake.
Your voice and the waterbirds celebrate summer.
Old moon on the lake.
Owls hunting autumnal food - your voice still singing.


by Emily Dickinson

Summer has two Beginnings --

 Summer has two Beginnings --
Beginning once in June --
Beginning in October
Affectingly again --

Without, perhaps, the Riot
But graphicker for Grace --
As finer is a going
Than a remaining Face --

Departing then -- forever --
Forever -- until May --
Forever is deciduous
Except to those who die --


by William Butler Yeats

A Man Young And Old: VIII. Summer And Spring

 We sat under an old thorn-tree
And talked away the night,
Told all that had been said or done
Since first we saw the light,
And when we talked of growing up
Knew that we'd halved a soul
And fell the one in t'other's arms
That we might make it whole;
Then peter had a murdering look,
For it seemed that he and she
Had spoken of their childish days
Under that very tree.
O what a bursting out there was, And what a blossoming, When we had all the summer-time And she had all the spring!


by Raymond Carver

The Best Time Of The Day

 Cool summer nights.
Windows open.
Lamps burning.
Fruit in the bowl.
And your head on my shoulder.
These the happiest moments in the day.
Next to the early morning hours, of course.
And the time just before lunch.
And the afternoon, and early evening hours.
But I do love these summer nights.
Even more, I think, than those other times.
The work finished for the day.
And no one who can reach us now.
Or ever.


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 Nikki Giovanni

Knoxville Tennessee

 I always like summer
Best
you can eat fresh corn
From daddy's garden
And okra
And greens
And cabbage
And lots of
Barbeque
And buttermilk
And homemade ice-cream
At the church picnic
And listen to
Gospel music
Outside
At the church
Homecoming
And go to the mountains with
Your grandmother
And go barefooted
And be warm
All the time
Not only when you go to bed
And sleep


by Hilaire Belloc

September

 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.


by Emily Dickinson

To see the Summer Sky

 To see the Summer Sky
Is Poetry, though never in a Book it lie --
True Poems flee --


by William Shakespeare

Fairy Land iv

 WHERE the bee sucks, there suck I: 
In a cowslip's bell I lie; 
There I couch when owls do cry.
On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily: Merrily, merrily, shall I live now, Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.


by Kobayashi Issa

Summer night

 Summer night--
even the stars
are whispering to each other.


by Emily Dickinson

A little Snow was here and there

 A little Snow was here and there
Disseminated in her Hair --
Since she and I had met and played
Decade had gathered to Decade --

But Time had added not obtained
Impregnable the Rose
For summer too indelible
Too obdurate for Snows --


by Percy Bysshe Shelley

A Lament

O WORLD! O Life! O Time! 
On whose last steps I climb  
Trembling at that where I had stood before; 
When will return the glory of your prime? 
No more¡ªoh never more! 5 

Out of the day and night 
A joy has taken flight: 
Fresh spring and summer and winter hoar 
Move my faint heart with grief but with delight 
No more¡ªoh never more! 10 


by Emily Dickinson

Revolution is the Pod

 Revolution is the Pod
Systems rattle from
When the Winds of Will are stirred
Excellent is Bloom

But except its Russet Base
Every Summer be
The Entomber of itself,
So of Liberty --

Left inactive on the Stalk
All its Purple fled
Revolution shakes it for
Test if it be dead.


by Ogden Nash

Oh To Be Odd!

 Hypochondriacs
Spend the winter at the bottom of Florida and the summer on top of
the Adirondriacs.
You go to Paris and live on champagne wine and cognac If you're dipsomognac.
If you're a manic-depressive You don't go anywhere where you won't be cheered up, and people say "There, there!" if your bills are excessive.
But you stick around and work day and night and night and day with your nose to the sawmill.
If you're nawmill.
Note: Dipsomaniac -- alcoholic


by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Aftermath

 When the summer fields are mown, 
When the birds are fledged and flown, 
And the dry leaves strew the path; 
With the falling of the snow, 
With the cawing of the crow, 
Once again the fields we mow 
And gather in the aftermath.
Not the sweet, new grass with flowers Is this harvesting of ours; Not the upland clover bloom; But the rowen mixed with weeds, Tangled tufts from marsh and meads, Where the poppy drops its seeds In the silence and the gloom.


by Emily Dickinson

Did We abolish Frost

 Did We abolish Frost
The Summer would not cease --
If Seasons perish or prevail
Is optional with Us --


by Spike Milligan

Summer Dawn

 My sleeping children are still flying dreams 
in their goose-down heads.
The lush of the river singing morning songs Fish watch their ceilings turn sun-white.
The grey-green pike lances upstream Kale, like mermaid's hair points the water's drift.
All is morning hush and bird beautiful.
I only, I didn't have flu.


by Ogden Nash

I Didnt Go To Church Today

 I didn't go to church today,
I trust the Lord to understand.
The surf was swirling blue and white, The children swirling on the sand.
He knows, He knows how brief my stay, How brief this spell of summer weather, He knows when I am said and done We'll have plenty of time together.


by Emily Dickinson

A lane of Yellow led the eye

 A lane of Yellow led the eye
Unto a Purple Wood
Whose soft inhabitants to be
Surpasses solitude
If Bird the silence contradict
Or flower presume to show
In that low summer of the West
Impossible to know --


by Emily Dickinson

Her final summer was it

Her final summer was it,
And yet we guessed it not;
If tenderer industriousness
Pervaded her, we thought

A further force of life
Developed from within,--
When Death lit all the shortness up,
And made the hurry plain.
We wondered at our blindness,-- When nothing was to see But her Carrara guide-post,-- At our stupidity When, duller than our dulness, The busy darling lay, So busy was she, finishing, So leisurely were we!


by Sylvia Plath

Jilted

 My thoughts are crabbed and sallow,
My tears like vinegar,
Or the bitter blinking yellow
Of an acetic star.
Tonight the caustic wind, love, Gossips late and soon, And I wear the wry-faced pucker of The sour lemon moon.
While like an early summer plum, Puny, green, and tart, Droops upon its wizened stem My lean, unripened heart.