September 18, 2015

Lo! sweeten’d with the summer light, The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow, Drops in a silent autumn night. All its allotted length of days.

—Alfred Lord Tennyson

September 11, 2015

Names written in the pale sky. Names rising in the updraft amid buildings. Names silent in stone Or cried out behind a door. Names blown over the earth and out to sea.

—Billy Collins

September 4, 2015

Blue poured into summer blue, A hawk broke from his cloudless tower, The roof of the silo blazed, and I knew That part of my life was over.

—Stanley Kunitz

August 28, 2015

The holidays were fruitful, but must end; One August evening had a cooler breath; Into each mind intruding duties crept; Under the cinders burned the fires of home.

—Ralph Waldo Emerson

August 21, 2015

Forget there are any political rings Just think of the butter and eggs and things; So wash off the buggy and hitch up the mare, And we’ll all go out to the county fair.

—Edwin C. Ranck

August 14, 2015

Near the shore’s arm of dune that holds the pond, A kayak glides, Someone seeking peace And looking up to find it in the sky.

—Margaret Howe Freydberg

August 7, 2015

At Great Pond The sun, rising, Scrapes his orange breast On the thick pines, And down tumble A few orange feathers into The dark water.

—Mary Oliver

July 31, 2015

The moon is at her full, and riding high, Floods the calm fields with light. The airs that hover in the summer sky Are all asleep to-night.

—William Cullen Bryant

July 24, 2015

There are the mud-flowers of dialect And the immortelles of perfect pitch And that moment when the bird sings very close To the music of what happens.

—Seamus Heaney

July 17, 2015

In the dog days of summer as muslin curls on its own heat And crickets cry in the black walnut tree The wind lifts up my life And sets it some distance from where it was.

—Meena Alexander

July 10, 2015

That beautiful season the Summer! Filled was the air with a dreamy and magical light; And the landscape Lay as if new created in all the freshness of childhood.

—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

July 3, 2015

This is America, This vast, confused beauty, This staring, restless speed of loveliness, Mighty, overwhelming, crude, of all forms, Making grandeur out of profusion.

—Amy Lowell

June 26, 2015

Winter is cold-hearted, Spring is yea and nay, Autumn is a weather cock Blown every way. Summer days for me When every leaf is on its tree.

—Christina Rosetti

June 19, 2015

My father moved through theys of we, Singing each new leaf out of each tree (And every child was sure that spring Danced when she heard my father sing).

—e.e. cummings

June 12, 2015

If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run – Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it, And – which is more – you’ll be a Man, my son!

—Rudyard Kipling

June 5, 2015

There’s crimson buds, and white and blue, The very rainbow showers Have turned to blossoms where they fell, And sown the earth with flowers.

—Thomas Hood

May 29, 2015

The rocky ledge runs far into the sea, And on its outer point, some miles away, The Lighthouse lifts its massive masonry, A pillar of fire by night, of cloud by day.

—Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

May 22, 2015

When lilacs last in the dooryard bloom’d, And the great star early droop’d in the western sky in the night, I mourn’d, and yet shall mourn with ever-returning spring.

—Walt Whitman

May 15, 2015

When beechen buds begin to swell, And woods the blue-bird’s warble know, The yellow violet’s modest bell Peeps from the last year’s leaves below.

—William Cullen Bryant

May 8, 2015

Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The periwinkle trailed its wreaths; And ’tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes.

—William Wordsworth