September Midnight
Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,
Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,
Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,
Ceaseless, insistent.
The grasshopper’s horn, and far-off, high in the maples,
The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence
Under a moon waning and worn, broken,
Tired with summer.
Let me remember you, voices of little insects,
Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,
Let me remember, soon will the winter be on us,
Snow-hushed and heavy.
Over my soul murmur your mute benediction,
While I gaze, O fields that rest after harvest,
As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to,
Lest they forget them.
poem by Sara Teasdale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
September Midnights
Lyric night of the lingering Indian Summer,
Shadowy fields that are scentless but full of singing,
Never a bird, but the passionless chant of insects,
Ceaseless, insistent.
The grasshopper's horn, and far-off, high in the maples,
The wheel of a locust leisurely grinding the silence
Under a moon waning and worn, borken,
Tired with summer.
Let me remember you, voices of little insects,
Weeds in the moonlight, fields that are tangled with asters,
Let me remember, soon will the winter be on us,
Snow-hushed and heavy.
Over my soul murmur your mute benediction,
While I gaze, O fields that rest after harvest,
As those who part look long in the eyes they lean to,
Lest they forget them.
poem by Sara Teasdale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Indian Summer
The voices hanging in the air
The fingers running through my hair
You whisper in my ear, words Im afraid to hear
Youre sleeping on the wings of doves
Of melting in the heat of love
A voice that disappears, into the air
You said you found me, and never let me go, and until you do
No arms around me, to pull me away, away from you
Indian summer, I remember you
Indian summer, do you think of me too?
Like a moth to a flame, youre drawn to me with tender chains
You wrap me up so tight, and hold me all the night
Whos the stranger come and gone, statues crying in the lawn
The fountains frozen tears, bring back those years
Did you think you loved me, and do you want me now like you did back then
No moon above me, could make me feel this way, feel this way again
Indian summer, I remember you
Indian summer, do you think of me too?
Where do the seasons go when you let them slip away
Now the winds have changed from hot to cold today
Indian summer, indian summer, I remember you, where are you now
Ohhh, indian summer, I remember you
Indian summer, do you think of me, do you think of me too
Cause I remember you, indian summer
song performed by by Sheryl Crow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Autumn Twilight
The long September evening dies
In mist along the fields and lanes;
Only a few faint stars surprise
The lingering twilight as it wanes.
Night creeps across the darkening vale;
On the horizon tree by tree
Fades into shadowy skies as pale
As moonlight on a shadowy sea.
And, down the mist-enfolded lanes,
Grown pensive now with evening,
See, lingering as the twilight wanes,
Lover with lover wandering.
poem by Arthur Symons
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A Grasshopper Must Jump
offer young grasshopper
tiny roots of wisdom
to perceive her reality
grasshopper wants desires
to jump ever more boldly
from grass blade to blade
see how high I can jump
see how far I can jump
screams young grasshopper
grasshopper wants praise
grasshopper wants esteem
grasshopper wants no advice
grasshopper hears with legs
so jump blindly grasshopper
learn own leap life lessons
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Meet Me In The Indian Summer
(Van Morrison)
Well don't you know
How much I love you
Don't you know
How much I care
It's beyond my comprehension
'Cos I love you on the square
It's not bound by any definition
It isn't written in the stars
It's not limited like Saturn
Isn't ruled by Mercury or Mars
Oh won't you meet me
In the Indian summer
Where we'll go walking
Down by the weeping willow tree
Won't you meet me
In the Indian summer
We'll go walking to eternity
It's not modelled by convention
It isn't worshipped like the sun
It's not likened unto any other
And it will never come undone
Well don't you know
That my world is so lonely
Just like a freight train in the dawn
That's why I need to
Have and hold you
Just to keep me from going wrong
Oh won't you meet me
In the Indian summer
We'll go walking
By the weeping willow tree
Won't you meet me Lord
In the Indian summer
We'll go walking to eternity
Won't you meet me
In the Indian summer
Well before
Those chilly winds do blow
Won't you meet me
In the Indian summer
Take me way back
To what I know
Oh won't you meet me
In the Indian summer
We'll go walking
By the weeping willow tree
Oh won't you meet me
In the Indian summer
We'll go walking to eternity
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Grey Thrush at the Door
'Swe-e-et! Swe-e-et!' Low at first and flattering,
Full of soft seductiveness on a wheedling note.
Who comes in mercy now, crumbs of comfort scattering
For a grey bird pleading from a cold, cold throat?
Just a thread of tallow-fat, just a scrap of meat!
Grey thrush is at the door. 'Swe-e-et! Swe-e-et!'
Grey bird, friendly bird, merry bird in summer time,
For summer is a merry time, full of tuneful mirth.
Sunny days are singing days. But winter is a glummer time
With lean days of scant fare; frost has locked the earth.
Song goes as sun goes, and harshly drives the sleet.
Where comes the almoner? 'Swe-e-et! Swe-e-et!'
'Sweet! Sweet!' Now it grows imperious:
A short call, a loud call, impatience in its tone.
Why am I left lingering? See, my plight is serious.
A poor bird all forlorn, starving and alone.
Grey Thrush is a-hungering, begging scraps to eat.
It's far beyond my breakfast time! 'Sweet! Sweet!'
Now a footstep on the floor. Now a sudden fluttering,
And Grey Thrush is waiting there beside the open door.
Kookaburra cocks an eye; greedily he's muttering;
But grey bird is first to swoop upon the proffered store,
A scrap of song in gratitude, then up, and off, away.
And the mendicant has vanished till another frosty day.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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In July Far away
The pleasant natural aroma of meadows mown for silage or hay
Come wafting to my memory from places far away
And the sun at intervals shines through the gray clouds of the sky
And cattle in lush fields chew their cuds at ease in the warmth of July
Young birds chirping in the hedgerows near where the stream goes babbling by
And dark winged swallows chasing flying insects above the valley fly
It does not seem that long ago or a long gone yesterday
Since I walked in the old grassy fields in July far away
In the knee high rushes hidden from view the male pheasant cuck and crow
And dipper the dark brown river bird with breast as white as snow
Is singing in the babbling stream that flows down from the lake
His scratchy notes familiar once heard one cannot mistake
And white butterflies flitting in the breeze make for a pretty sight
Above the wildflowers in the fields in the Summer sunlight.
poem by Francis Duggan
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An Old-Year Song
As through the forest, disarrayed
By chill November, late I strayed,
A lonely minstrel of the wood
Was singing to the solitude
I loved thy music, thus I said,
When o'er thy perch the leaves were spread
Sweet was thy song, but sweeter now
Thy carol on the leafless bough.
Sing, little bird! thy note shall cheer
The sadness of the dying year.
When violets pranked the turf with blue
And morning filled their cups with dew,
Thy slender voice with rippling trill
The budding April bowers would fill,
Nor passed its joyous tones away
When April rounded into May:
Thy life shall hail no second dawn,--
Sing, little bird! the spring is gone.
And I remember--well-a-day!--
Thy full-blown summer roundelay,
As when behind a broidered screen
Some holy maiden sings unseen
With answering notes the woodland rung,
And every tree-top found a tongue.
How deep the shade! the groves how fair!
Sing, little bird! the woods are bare.
The summer's throbbing chant is done
And mute the choral antiphon;
The birds have left the shivering pines
To flit among the trellised vines,
Or fan the air with scented plumes
Amid the love-sick orange-blooms,
And thou art here alone,--alone,--
Sing, little bird! the rest have flown.
The snow has capped yon distant hill,
At morn the running brook was still,
From driven herds the clouds that rise
Are like the smoke of sacrifice;
Erelong the frozen sod shall mock
The ploughshare, changed to stubborn rock,
The brawling streams shall soon be dumb,--
Sing, little bird! the frosts have come.
Fast, fast the lengthening shadows creep,
The songless fowls are half asleep,
The air grows chill, the setting sun
May leave thee ere thy song is done,
The pulse that warms thy breast grow cold,
Thy secret die with thee, untold
The lingering sunset still is bright,--
Sing, little bird! 't will soon be night.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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I'm An Indian Too
Like the Seminole, Navajo, Kickapoo
Like those Indians
I'm an Indian too
A Sioux
A Sioux
Just like Battle Axe, Hatchet Face, Eagle Nose
Like those Indians
I'm an Indian too
A Sioux
A Sioux
Some Indian summer's day
Without a sound
I may hide away
With Big Chief Hole-in-the-Ground
And I'll have totem poles, tomahawks, pipes of peace
Which will go to prove
I'm an Indian too
A Sioux
A Sioux
With my chief in his teepee
We'll raise an Indian family
And I'll be busy night and day
Looking like a flour sack
With two papooses on my back
And three papooses on the way
Like the Chippewa, Iroquois, Omaha
Like those Indians
I'm an Indian too
A Sioux
A Sioux
Just like Rising Moon, Falling Pants, Running Nose
Like those Indians
I'm an Indian too
A Sioux
A Sioux
Some Indian summer's day
Without a care
I may run away
With Big Chief Son-of-a-Bear
And I'll wear moccasins, wampum beads, feather hats
Which will go to prove
I'm an Indian too
A Sioux
A Sioux
song performed by by Irving Berlin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This is what summer means to me
A warm summer day
without a cloud in sight
A baby bird
Taking its first flight
This is what summer means to me
Trees full of leaves
Giving me shade
My dad and I
Fishing in the glade
This is what summer means to me
Watching my daughter
Play on her slide
And how She will never
Want to come inside
This is what summer means to me
See how she enjoys the day
Until the very last
Just like me as a child
Long ago in the past
This is what summer means to me
The distant roar
Of a neighbors lawn mower
Unruly grass be gone
For ever more
This is what summer means to me
The smell of charcoal
And good friends all around
Birds singing in the trees
What a lovely sound
This is what summer means to me
© JPM 5/25/2008
To Erinna
Was Time not harsh to you, or was he kind,
O pale Erinna of the perfect lyre,
That he has left no word of singing fire
Whereby you waked the dreaming Lesbian wind,
And kindled night along the lyric shore?
O girl whose lips Erato stooped to kiss,
Do you go sorrowing because of this
In fields where poets sing forevermore?
Or are you glad and is it best to be
A silent music men have never heard,
A dream in all our souls that we may say:
"Her voice had all the rapture of the sea,
And all the clear cool quiver of a bird
Deep in a forest at the break of day"?
poem by Sara Teasdale
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Sunday Morning - VII
Supple and turbulent, a ring of men
Shall chant in orgy on a summer morn
Their boisterous devotion to the sun,
Not as a god, but as a god might be,
Naked among them, like a savage source.
Their chant shall be a chant of paradise,
Out of their blood, returning to the sky;
And in their chant shall enter, voice by voice,
The windy lake wherein their lord delights,
The trees, like serafin, and echoing hills,
That choir among themselves long afterward.
They shall know well the heavenly fellowship
Of men that perish and of summer morn.
And whence they came and whither they shall go
The dew upon their feet shall manifest.
poem by Wallace Stevens
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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Day's Of Summer
The scented air of summers breath, the warming summer sun
The tree-top call from Nightingale says Spring is on the run
The cattle graze at snails pace the sheep are being shorn
The cat has found the perfect place lay flat-out on the lawn
The background air is filled with noise, a tune the insects play
The crickets dance their noisy tune as they go on their way
The shimmer of the warming fields play tricks upon the eyes
The land it seems to dance and leap towards the very skies
The summer yields her grace and beauty right throughout the day
The lazy brook now slowly warming, trout in shadows stay
The fields of corn bring colour's bright, the insects sweetest potion
The ripening oats and Barley sway like waves on deepest ocean
The summer show... the best on earth no tickets here to buy
The limit just your senses and a clear blue open sky
poem by Dave James
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A tale of summer
Swallows catch insects on the wing
In the early morning sun,
And a cuckoo calls to tell us
That the summer has now begun.
The flowering meadow comes alive
With butterflies and the sound of bees,
Cherry blossom showers down like confetti
Carried on the summer breeze.
Swift and house martins arrive back from afar
Making a welcome sight,
And a nightingale sings on a summer evening
And on into the night.
The sweet smell of honeysuckle
Fills the evening air,
While fox cubs play on the edge of a coppice
The beauty of summer is everywhere.
A skylark sings high above
Fields of barley corn and wheat,
While on the lake swans with thier cygnets
Make the summer complete.
poem by Gordon Butchers
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Birdbrain
Streaking, braking, twisting snatching,
Willie Wagtail's insect catching,
acrobatic chatterbox is garbed in black and white.
Overhead a falcon gliding
wheels and dives, hones in, colliding,
nail-gun force in outstretched claws which strike and lock in tight.
Falcon's talons raking feathers,
small-boned bird eludes caged tethers,
spirals down to dropp within a crown of needled pine.
Cradled safe in twiglet fences,
Wagtail blinks, regaining senses,
splintered wing hangs limply from a slashed and bloodied spine.
Wagtails are unused to resting,
soon, the broken bird is testing,
asymmetric fluttering as painful minutes slip.
Drifting, slowly dehydrating,
ants begin investigating;
as they nip, it hops, retreating, reaching pine limb's tip.
Still it watches insects flicking,
body clock's insistent ticking,
urges nesting, feeding, singing, borders to defend.
Tiny size can be deceptive,
this small bird is quite perceptive,
constantly deciding, many duties to attend.
Suddenly it launches, sailing,
briefly floats, then cartwheels flailing,
Willie Wagtail's final, fatal leap into the sky.
Insects hover, soon to plunder-
Can a bug feel smug?
I wonder.....
No,
but maybe birds can choose to linger or to fly.
poem by Diane Hine
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Slow Summer Dancin' (One Summer Night)
I'll set the stage while she's still dancing
I'll make the music soft and slow
Then I'll turn down the lights
Make things just right
For every slow song that we know
Over and over again
One summer night
(Do do do)
We fell in love
One summer night
I held you tight
(One summer, one summer)
You and I
(One summer, one summer)
Under the moon for love
(Ooo one summer, one summer)
We'll spin around this room together
I'll treat my angel really nice
We'll fall in love, we'll fall forever
Thank God for lazy summer nights
Over and over again
One summer night
(Do do do)
(One summer, one summer)
I kissed your lips
(One summer, one summer)
One summer night
(One summer, one summer)
I held you close
(One summer, one summer)
You and I
(One summer, one summer)
Under the moon of love
(Ooo one summer, one summer)
(One summer, one summer)
One summer night
(One summer, one summer)
(One summer, one summer)
(One summer, one summer)
(One summer, one summer)
(One summer, one summer)
(One summer, one summer)
One summer night
(One summer, one summer)
Under the moon of love
(Ooo one summer, one summer)
Under the moon of love
(Ooo one summer, one summer)
Under the moon of
Love
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Slow Summer Dancin'
I'll set the stage while she's still dancing
I'll make the music soft and slow
Then i'll turn down the lights
Make things just right
For every slow song that we know
Over and over again
One summer night
(do do do)
We fell in love
One summer night
I held you tight
(one summer, one summer)
You and i
(one summer, one summer)
Under the moon for love
(ooo one summer, one summer)
We'll spin around this room together
I'll treat my angel really nice
We'll fall in love, we'll fall forever
Thank god for lazy summer nights
Over and over again
One summer night
(do do do)
(one summer, one summer)
I kissed your lips
(one summer, one summer)
One summer night
(one summer, one summer)
I held you close
(one summer, one summer)
You and i
(one summer, one summer)
Under the moon of love
(ooo one summer, one summer)
(one summer, one summer)
One summer night
(one summer, one summer)
(one summer, one summer)
(one summer, one summer)
(one summer, one summer)
(one summer, one summer)
(one summer, one summer)
One summer night
(one summer, one summer)
Under the moon of love
(ooo one summer, one summer)
Under the moon of love
(ooo one summer, one summer)
Under the moon of
Love
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Singing Birds Are Endangered Species!
Singing bird's songs
enjoyed,
wonderful melody, wonderful words,
Rhapsodical Sometimes,
More often romantic!
A power hungry,
another powerful
both listen a while,
They want the bird to sing for them!
Now the bird has to stop singing,
Or should think of flying far away!
Power hungry will kill
or powerful will,
Singing bird ability of throat
Is its own enemy,
Two hands are ready to squeeze,
Two blades ready to cut,
Singing bird's throat often
squeezed,
Several died,
not even found in history,
they fear even that bird's story!
For it sings only truth,
Singing birds throat is cut,
Because it can't keep its mouth shut!
Poor bird! Its talent,
gifted voice became
its own enemy,
Not even they are listed
Though singing birds are endangered species!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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A summer love
A warm summer's night
nestled cozy in your arms
rocking back and forth
from a wooden swing
hung by an oak tree
we sit
nothing but silence
just lingering thoughts
rafting in the summer's breeze
floating toward stars bright
the feel of your touch
warm breath against my neck
makes my heart beat rapidly
as i lay my head upon your shoulder
and your arm wrapped around me
sweet tender lips full of smiles
speaks of our love so pure and true
when you lay them upon mine
no words are needed
for our love is already known
the look in your eyes
tells all
on this warm summer's night
a summer love is all that remains.
poem by Darkangel Flyfree
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I Chant Your Name Oh Beloved
Chant Your Name
I chant Your name O Beloved
Like the raindrops on a roof
I chant Your name O Beloved
Like the breeze in the leaves
I chant Your name o beloved
Like the snowflakes on mountain peaks
I chant Your name O Beloved
Like the dew drops in the field
I chant your name O beloved
As Your blood pulsate in my veins
I chant Your name O beloved
As the bees buzz around my head
In silence I chant Your name O Beloved
As they carry my whispered prayers
poem by Persian Khushi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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