Poets must like autumn.
I had a hard time finding a nice August poem, but September has a ton. The changing of the seasons must inspire poets to go out and write about their surroundings. There were a lot of lovely poems to choose from.
William Wordsworth wrote many poems about September. I chose this one because I loved his attention to detail. It feels like I am standing on the bridge right next to Wordsworth. That’s what makes a poem enjoyable.
Composed Upon Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1802
Earth has not anything to show more fair:
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth, like a garment, wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour, valley, rock, or hill;
Ne’er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!
by William Wordsworth